


See No Desire, Hear No Desire

by auralikh



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Metaverse, Betrayal, Character Death, Contracts, Eat or be Eaten, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Burn more like Slow Drown, Superpowers at a Cost, temporary alliances, unlikely roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auralikh/pseuds/auralikh
Summary: Akechi is the first person to seriously investigate Madarame and his pupil, and it's through this detective that Yusuke forms a pact with Goemon in order to purify the world of vice. What wasn't detailed in this contract, however, is that the superhuman abilities that are given to him are fueled by the literal consumption of corrupted desires.With the rising number of contracts, it's clear that Tokyo is going to become an all-out battlefield rather than a united crusade to reform society. Questions arise while Yusuke begins to reap the corrupted desires of others.Will he be able to continue cleansing others or will he be consumed by the very desires he binges on? Who can be trusted, if anyone at all? What will happen if he can't keep up with the growing hunger? How long before contractees devour each other?





	1. An Alternative Investigation

**Author's Note:**

> With the importance of social links/relationships in the Persona games, I wondered: what if the conditions of the game were made so that cooperation was difficult and discouraged? How would the characters interact with each other then? This is my (extensive) answer to that question.

Being in one of Madarame’s exhibitions was always a performance. A performance of ignorance, or putting a pleasant demeanor on the entire time as patrons made their usual remarks about the vast variety of artistic styles, or attempting to ignore the complaints of the guests who are obviously only there because someone else had dragged them there and lacked the eye to marvel at even the best works in the exhibition beyond a glance. It’s something that Yusuke had gotten used to over the years. He had to learn to put on that mask faster than most of the other younger pupils, since he was always so tall that everyone had assumed he was at least two years older than he really was. An old couple even complimented him on his bold decision to be Madarame’s apprentice instead of studying in college, when he still had a couple years of high school left. He takes being seen as older as more positive than anything else, reinforcement that he was behaving correctly in the exhibition.

The younger visitors always stand out more in these settings (something which Yusuke personally did not understand) so it was only natural that a young man around his age struck his eye. Brown hair that shined with almost unnatural health, a trenchcoat that looked a tad bit too large for his figure which contrasted with well-fitted pants that hint at an athletic build. He walked closer to the painting that this young man was examining, the mere fact that the other seemed to actually be taking the art in unlike many of the visitors who seem to make a promenade around the exhibit made this person a subject of interest already. He didn’t wear bright colors like most older, cultured visitors tended to do. As Yusuke came closer, the other turned around. The young man’s eyes widened a little and he took a step back, as if the painting was Yusuke’s actual target.

“Ah, you must be Madarame’s pupil. Yusuke Kitagawa, correct?” the young man said with a very soft-toned voice, almost too pleasant in timbre, “I was hoping I might encounter you here, but these paintings ended up stealing my attention.”

Yusuke couldn’t help but to be a little taken aback, “You were looking… for me?” That was uncommon, to say the least.

“Yes, my curiosity was piqued when I heard that Madarame would house a select number of pupils in his home, and that one in particular might as well had been born and raised there.” The other smiled, “Ah, where are my manners? I should at least introduce myself, my name is Goro Akechi.”

Goro Akechi. Akechi, Akechi. Yusuke had the feeling that he had heard that name somewhere, probably through the conversations of other students while he was painting in the studio. The others tended to chat while working on their pieces, but Yusuke was absolutely silent aside from the occasional hum or sigh of disappointment. But when he tried to think of the context, he drew a blank.

“Nice to meet you, Akechi. It’s a pleasant surprise to see someone who wishes to see me at my teacher’s exhibition.”

“Ah, there’s already so much about Madarame’s works and his life available online,” Akechi shrugged it off, “But I was interested in learning what kind of life a pupil of a famous artist must live. You must dedicate most of your hours on art considering you are living in Madarame’s place for that explicit reason.”

“Yes, you could easily sum up my daily life with that, though I would not want anything else.”

“Really now? Does Madarame leave you to your own devices for the most part? I presume he checks on you and your progress at least somewhat frequently.”

“Indeed, he always makes sure that I have a… decent rate of output.” Yusuke should not have answered Akechi that way, for he saw a glimmer in the other’s eyes after the slightest of hesitation and it was clear that curiosity was not the only thing that had driven Akechi here. He was about to elaborate, to fix the mistake, but-

“So Madarame cares for quantity, does he? Despite that consideration, I’m afraid I haven’t seen anything about your works being on display, or any of the other pupils to be precise,” Akechi feigned a slightly confused look, “One would think that Madarame would want to showcase his pupils’ works to help expose them to the art world, not to mention prove the merit of his mentorship.”

“There’s still much that we all have to learn.” Yusuke tried to hold back a frown. It didn’t work.

“We? I’ve heard that quite a few pupils had fallen out recently. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ve heard to any others who are currently under Madarame’s tutelage.”

“...Committing every moment of the day to art can be difficult. Even I have had my fair share of struggles at times, but it was all for the sake of improving our abilities, I assure you.” Yusuke hoped that the other would drop his point quickly, but something in him knew that there was no way that would end this easily.

“Oh I never made a claim otherwise.” Akechi grinned. It was the grin of the upper hand, “But it would make sense for an artist who takes his work so seriously like Madarame would be equally serious when it comes to making sure his pupils can create presentable work. Such seriousness can easily become stressful for others.”

“Are you trying to insinuate something?” Yusuke’s eye twitched.

“Why of course not,” Akechi’s voice had stayed in that same soft tone the entire time, which was becoming more unnerving than anything, “I can only guess why you would think I had such intentions, however.” Yusuke noticed the other’s eyes glance at something behind him for a moment. Akechi smiled, “You don’t look too inclined to share though. That’s fine, I know when it’s best not to pry anymore. It was nice meeting you, Kitagawa.”

The way Akechi promptly left was suspicious, but Yusuke couldn’t say he wasn’t happy that the nosy young man quickly took his leave before he really started getting infuriating rather than just irritating.

“Was that a classmate of yours?” Yusuke turned around at the familiar voice.

“No, sensei, just another visitor that happened to be curious.” An understatement, to say the least.

“...Ah I see. It’s always good to see more youth around fine art. It’s a sign that there are some in that generation that have some culture.” Yusuke nodded, but it came off feeling rather stiff. Despite being able to put on a decent face in these public events, Yusuke could never quite get used to the way that Madarame talked here compared to how he tended to behave back in the atelier, especially in the mornings when he would often check up on Yusuke’s work.

“Look, one of my most recent patrons has arrived,” Madarame gestured to an older lady decked almost entirely in a forest green, sans teal flats that clashed with the otherwise passable outfit, “Come Yusuke, it’s only polite to introduce yourself to her.”

“Of course, Sensei.”

 

* * *

 

The final day of the exhibition had passed and Yusuke finally felt like he could focus his energy back onto his art. Madarame took no time in reminding him that the elder was expecting good work from him, as per usual. The fact that there were no other pupils anymore made the quota rise, however, which added the pressure of working faster while maintaining quality. Yusuke tried to take it as a personal challenge, but the frequency of all-nighters were only increasing and he could barely focus on schoolwork now. Not that his academic scores really mattered, his performance in art was the only thing required to keep his scholarship, and he had no concern over that. His teachers were quite used to his fluctuating scores anyway, aware that school was essentially something on the side for Yusuke, unlike most other Japanese students.

He had just finished his glass of water and sat down, intent on at least painting the background before Madarame returned, when he heard the bell ring. He froze for a moment. Did Madarame forget his keys again? Still, it didn’t make sense for him to return so soon already, there was supposed to be an interview today and it had barely been twenty minutes.

The bell rang again. No, it had to be someone else, Madarame never rings a second time so quickly, and often resorts to knocking instead since the doorbell tended to have issues at unexpected moments. But who could it be? He certainly did not expect anyone, and Madarame never mentioned a new pupil or anything of that sort.

A third ring. Yusuke supposed that was his cue. He briskly went downstairs and opened the door before a possible fourth ring, only to be disappointed by what he saw.

“What brings you here?” Yusuke kept the door barely open, enough to keep most of his face visible.

“What a pleasure to meet you again so soon,” Akechi smiled. It was the smile of a celebrity, “Though I’m afraid we won’t be able to have a nice chat this time. A shame, I would have liked to get to know you better.”

“What do you mean?” Yusuke’s eyebrows furrowed with suspicion.

“I mean this,” Akechi timed himself perfectly so that the warrant notice was produced right on time with the last word. It seemed that he was practiced at this, “The police had gotten evidence of possible abuse. Naturally, I’ve come here to investigate.”

Yusuke’s grip on the door tightened. He’s here to investigate? Nonsense, there’s no way a high school student would be doing anything like this. But to think that Akechi would produce a fake warrant notice, “Ridiculous. If this is an excuse to talk to either Sensei or me, I’m afraid that Sensei’s out at the moment and I have an urgent deadline.”

Right as the door was about to close, Akechi pulled out his phone, where a video was ready to play, “Look, this footage was given to the police department just the other day.” he said and pressed the play button. Yusuke’s eyes widened, this was actual footage from inside the atelier, he could tell. One of the former pupils, it must’ve been Ayami Tanaka, he could tell from the medium length hair and the butterfly pin she always had, was on the floor, learning on the door and sobbing quietly.

“ _Please let me out… Sensei, please. It’s been three days already...”_ There was a small puddle under her and the hands that clawed at the door were completely dirtied with charcoal and her arms were bruised.

Akechi stopped the video there and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Sorry, but I’ll have to stop there. That’s not the end of the video, but I would feel bad showing all of this to one of her former classmates without her permission. If you still don’t believe me, I can produce a bit more evidence, though I believe you’d be aware of what that would consist of.”

Yusuke couldn’t believe what he saw. Not so much the actual content of the video (Ayami was a legitimate contender for who had the roughest time during their stay here) but rather how Akechi had gotten footage or any other sort of evidence in the first place. He had heard that there were some rumors spreading about, but from his knowledge, all of them were baseless in that they came from anonymous posts with no hard evidence. But Madarame did have some security cameras around and inside the house, in case of any burglars or particularly bad paparazzi. Had one of them been able to get footage from the cameras without Madarame knowing?

“... So you’re actually part of the police?”

Akechi blinked, the first reaction that actually appeared genuine and out of surprise. Akechi then started to laugh, though it was obvious that he was trying to restrain it to an acceptable manner, “I haven’t met someone who didn’t know who I am for quite a while now. It’s quite a pleasant surprise, actually.” Yusuke was only more confused, was he supposed to know who Akechi was? He had never paid any mind to celebrities or politics, or most of what comes out the news, actually. Not watching television doesn’t help.

“I’m a detective,” Akechi continued, “And it is my duty to investigate the situation if anything so unjust seems to have occurred. So I would appreciate it if you’d let me in. There are consequences to not abiding by the search warrant, I hope you are aware.”

Yusuke hesitated, but opened the door, not looking at the detective as he waltzed right in.

From the way that Akechi behaved as he made his way around the estate, Yusuke figured that he seemed to act like an actual detective. He wasn’t sure what kind of evidence would be found in a search warrant when it came to something like neglect and abuse, but he kept his guard up regardless, desperately hoping that the other wouldn’t find anything and make his way out before Madarame returned to complicate matters. He already knew in the back of his mind that his teacher would be upset at him by the time he returns, because there is no way he’ll be able to make any decent progress at this point.

Yusuke grew anxious as they went down the upstairs hallway, right towards Madarame’s private room. He had no idea what existed inside that locked room, which only made him dread what Akechi might find inside, but considering the situation Yusuke was in right now, he had no real way of stopping the detective from doing his work.

“Hm, seems like this is the only locked door in this place.” Akechi’s voice rang amused. Yusuke felt his stomach tighten.

“...It’s only natural that Sensei would want some possessions under lock and key.”

“That goes for everyone, yet he’s the only one with the privilege to do so, it seems.”

“I don’t believe there’s a way to get in, I’ve never even seen the key before,” Yusuke tried to think of ways to delay the detective. Madarame would be furious if he caught wind that someone was even near the room, law enforcement or no, “Besides, it’s for the more highly-valued artworks. Even if this atelier isn’t the most secure, some pieces need to be protected.”

“I’m sorry but I’m obligated to look at anything I can to get to the truth of the matter. Have you ever gotten a look at what was inside anyway?” Yusuke didn’t respond. He felt like a fool just standing there, feeling his stomach tighten, watching from a short distance as Akechi examined the lock and then took out a lockpick.

“Wh-What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just lockpick the door!”

“Immoral, I know. But you don’t seem to have the key, so I’m left with no choice.” As much as he made it sound like he felt obligated to do this, there was an air of artificiality to the way he was speaking.

“You don’t sound-... There’s really no need to examine these artworks, how could a painting possibly be linked to these ridiculous claims?”

Akechi actually stopped lockpicking for a moment to stare at Yusuke, “Even with actual video footage of neglect where one of your colleagues had no choice but to wet herself, you’re in complete denial?”

“I-” Yusuke felt like his words were going to fumble no matter what he does, “I find it impossible that these claims could be connected to an art storage room.”

“...Is that so.” Akechi messed with the lock some more and finally got it to give in. He turned the doorknob and paused, “There’s no need to hide what you’re going through, you know.”

The sudden considerateness took Yusuke aback, “Excuse me?”

“Usually this would be considered too personal for me to want to intrude but you’re doing this because unlike all of the past pupils of Madarame, you literally have nowhere to turn to. You are Madarame’s adoptive son, correct?” Yusuke looked downwards in silence.

Akechi continued to talk, not looking at the other boy but at the paint on the door instead, “As a detective… No, as a human being, I think it would be best to admit your caretaker’s faults regardless of how much you think you “owe” him. Abuse is always inexcusable, after all.” Was that a genuine moment of tenderness or some means of psychologically attempting to coax Yusuke into saying something? There was no way to tell.

He opened the door and reached for the light switch.

In a sense, Yusuke was not wrong. The room only seemed to be filled with row after row of paintings. What made him stop functioning entirely wasn’t the presence of artwork, but the subjects of them. Or perhaps, just “subject” would be a more appropriate word, as every single painting appeared to be a mimicry of Sayuri.

“Oh my.” Even Akechi had to pause for a moment.

“What… What is this?” Yusuke knew exactly what this was and what this implied, but his thoughts felt like they were simultaneously blocked and diffusing all over the place, bouncing to all different angles.

“Well this certainly doesn’t add to the abuse case, but I fear we’ve seen something also condemnable.” Akechi did not waste any more time to start walking around the room, examining and validating that yes, every single painting here appeared to be a fake, “I had heard rumors about this, but did not have any evidence, and I honestly did not expect finding something like this. Certainly changes my plans for the rest of the day.” He took out a camera and started taking pictures of the entire scene, including close-ups on some of the fakes.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I think you know just as much as I do, if not better.” Akechi walked down to the corner where there was a conspicuously covered canvas, “I think uncovering this might help us see what exactly is going on.”

Another Sayuri.

No, not “another” one, it was the Sayuri. The original that was said to have been stolen all these years ago. What could it possibly be doing here?

Yusuke must’ve missed the sound of the front door opening, but his ears still picked up on the squeaking of the old wooden stairs. He’s here. He’s here and they aren’t near the door, the door is wide open and they’re inside, seeing everything that had been hidden for so many years. He didn’t want to look back, to see what Madarame’s expression would be once he inevitably comes up here.

“Yusuke! What on earth are you doing in ther-” He heard the old man pause, “... Who is that and what is he doing here, let alone inside the house?”

Akechi looked completely unfazed and took out a badge, “Goro Akechi, sir, I suppose you know that I’m a detective.” He then took his badge back in his pocket and produced the sheet of paper again, “I’m here under a search warrant about an abuse case. And yes, I have enough evidence to make this action legitimately. It seems like we’ve found ourselves a different issue here, though.”

“Sensei… Why have you been making all of these replicas of ‘Sayuri’?” Yusuke’s words felt heavy in his mouth but there was no turning back now, was there, “Especially when you had the original with you?”

“Yusuke, it’s not what you think!” Madarame quickly rose to the defensive, “I… I’ve been afraid to admit it to you but I’ve actually been dealing with some… financial struggles recently. It’s lowly of me, but I’ve been making replicas of ‘Sayuri’ to help keep up afloat.”

“That’s quite bold of you to say, considering that you have an exclusive exhibition on your works in one of Japan’s greatest art museums.” Akechi stepped closer to the old man, “Then again, it’s not exclusively your work, now is it? Perhaps if you shared your profits with all the pupils you plagiarized from, that would lead you to a lack of funds.”

Yusuke stared wide-eyed at the detective, who chuckled in response, “Why are you looking at me so surprised like that? Don’t take me for a fool, I am a professional detective after all.”

“It wasn’t plagiarism, I was only helping with suggestions as Sensei is in a bit of a creative block at the moment.”

“I may not be an expert in fine art, but I find it quite hard to believe that verbal suggestions can give an artist such a wide variety of styles during a supposed “creative block.” And that said “creative block” did not prevent his recent works from suffering in quality. But that’s beside the point.”

Akechi walked to where Yusuke was and let a gloved hand rest on the artist’s shoulder. The stare from those terra-cotta eyes made Yusuke shiver a little, “I know that your instinct might be telling you to defend this man, but you should ask yourself if it’s really worth it. Would it really hold up to your sense of justice?”

Before Yusuke could even begin to string together a response, Madarame intervenes, “Sense of justice? What rubbish. All you have been doing right now is making false accusations and trying to get my own pupil to turn against me! I don’t care if you’re a detective, if you don’t drop these baseless claims right now I’m going to have to phone in security.”

Akechi’s hand dropped from Yusuke’s shoulder in order to look at Madarame properly, “I think this room is evidence enough of art fraud. I also have evidence of your atrocious abuse of Ayami Tanaka, who is currently in the hospital recovering from a suicide attempt not long after becoming homeless. I doubt it will take me much to find something concrete that points to plagiarism and the like.”

“Not just fraud, but abuse and plagiarism too?” Madarame’s voice became more enraged, “Yusuke! You let this boy just waltz around the house looking for something to throw me in jail for? Do you really hate your mentor and caretaker that much?”

His gut wanted to react immediately, to appease Madarame and deny any such ill intent. Yet he had no words to say. All of the attention was on him right now: Madarame’s glare of anger, betrayal, and expectation blended into a thick, toxic mixture; Akechi’s calmer, almost pleasant stare, which made it seem like he already knew exactly how this was going to end and was just waiting for the pieces to move.

“Yusuke!” For a moment, Yusuke could’ve sworn that Madarame looked different at the moment of the shout, yellow-eyed with white face paint.

 _You know the truth, don’t you?_ The thought went through his mind, _Or are you not willing to admit it unless Madarame confesses it himself? You’re no fool, look at him._

He did, and the yellow eyes and white face paint were back. Not only that, but Madarame’s entire appearance changed from his normal, humble attire to one of extreme gaudiness, with golden robes that reeked of corruption.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to rely on him to deny your crimes anymore.” Akechi smiled.

“Sensei, has all of this really been-"

_Have you finally come to your senses?_

It had finally come to Yusuke’s senses that this was not necessarily his own thoughts. There was the sense that this was coming from somewhere above.

At that moment of realization, a sharp pain ran right through him. Where? Everywhere? Mostly the head but that didn’t make the rest of his body feel any better. He gripped his head but the pain (and now nausea) only built up and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor.

Out of the background noise that was the clamor that came from Madarame and Akechi, the voice resonated in his head again.

 _How foolishly you averted your eyes from the truth...A deplorable imitation indeed...Best you part from that aspect of yourself!_ He was on his knees? His hands were on the floor now too, clawing into the ground to the point that blood started to smear on the wood. The breaking of the skin helped clear Yusuke’s head momentarily, and he turned his head up. Madarame seemed to be backing up to the opposite side of the room, while Akechi was cornering the old man down, saying something and glancing down at Yusuke with a smirk. Yusuke wanted to shoot that cocky expression down, but another wave of pain tore that thought down and he screamed, shutting his eyes.

 _Let us now forge a contract._ Contract? He wanted to shout, demand an explanation of what in the world was going on but he was afraid that the next time he opened his mouth, it wouldn’t be a wordless scream, but vomit.

 _I am thou, thou art I..._ Yusuke tried to breathe, but he felt like the vomit might come out at any moment now and a fuzzy feeling started to manifest from the jawbone up.

 _The world is filled with both beauty and vice…_ Blotches of dark blue were invading his sight, slowly taking over the visage of Madarame pulling something out. Gold? A Phone? The blotches were darkening to a black now and he could barely feel his last breath as he felt consciousness slip away.

_It is time you teach people which is which!_


	2. Yusuke Tries a Tapioca Bubble

The first thing that Yusuke is aware of is the sound of slurping, of an ill-mannered child attempting to eat a soup dumpling for the first time.

That connection then leads him to become aware that there is indeed, something in his mouth. It tasted old, fermented, yet somehow wholesome and rejuvenating, like the aftereffect of those awful traditional medicines. Without conscious thought, he found himself continuing to enjoy whatever it was that he was eating, his eyes closed to savor the sensation.

“You’re enjoying this quite well for someone who had been so conflicted a couple of moments ago.”

Yusuke’s head turned towards the source of the sound and his eyes opened to see Akechi, who appeared calm as usual.

“Tell me, is it satisfying to consume the desires that had oppressed you for so long?”

What in the world was the detective talking about? Yusuke looked down in order to stand up, but what lay below him was a fainted body, Madarame’s fainted body. He was bleeding from his mouth and there were clusters of ice on his hair and clothes. Drops of what looked like black ink stained his robes right above where his heart is. Yusuke rubbed the corners of his mouth with his sleeve and saw the same black liquid, which looked a little too thick to be considered ink.

Yusuke pressed his hands on Madarame’s face and he leaned in to hear faint breathing.

“He’s still alive… Thank goodness.” He stood up and looked down at his hands, “But what happened? What have I done? What is this ice and this… ink-like liquid?”

“Ah, I forgot that most people tend to black out on their first time.” The degree of calmness from Akechi was unnerving at best, “Don’t worry about Madarame, I called in a doctor I know well, none of this will spill out into the public.”

“You seem awfully familiar with this,” Yusuke leaned on to the closest wall with his shoulder, “What kind of detective work have you been doing? Have you come here to frame me?”

“Like I said, none of this will spill out into the public. I’m trying to get justice on Madarame, not victimize the innocent.” Akechi sighed, “Guess I’ll just have to explain some things from the top again.”

“You likely won’t believe a thing I say, but I’ll try to explain anyway. What you have been consuming just now was a physical manifestation of Madarame’s desires. The desire for fame and money which ruined his art and the lives of his pupils.”

“Desires?” This sounded like a premise for a cheesy fantasy story or video game, “What kind of ridiculous nonsense are you making up?”

“Ridiculous, yes. But it’s not nonsense,” Akechi pulled at his gloves, “You could feel it, couldn’t you? Something deep in that black ball of ooze that stirs something deep within you. Desire attracts more desire, so it’s no wonder that we feel so compelled by its raw form.”

“We?” Yusuke breathed. It was a struggle to remain standing, even when leaning on the wall like this. Somehow all of his energy had disappeared after he became lucid.

“We.” Akechi nodded. He feigned holding an orb with his right hand and a ball of light began for form, perfectly fitted to his palm, “I’m able to control the light, while those ice crystals there were made by you,” the ball constantly changed its hues until it settled for something clear and ice-like, clearly imitating the ice that had damaged Madarame, “Tell me, do you remember hearing someone before your… lapse in memory?”

“Naturally, you and Madarame were around…” Yusuke hesitated to think back and a vague recollection came to mind, “And… some other voice. At first, I mistook it for my own thoughts, but they were so overpowering that it certainly couldn’t have been, unless I’d gone mad that very instant.”

The imitation ice ball faded away, “Hm, I believe you shouted “Goemon” at some point. Which is quite a coincidence because Robin Hood had called on me when I experienced all of this for the first time.”

Akechi took Yusuke’s look of even greater confusion as a cue to continue, “I’m not sure what to call this but… at times of great need and injustice, sometimes a spirit of the past will arrive, offering a contract. Special powers will be granted to those chosen so long as they vow to consume the distorted desires that have made this world twisted,” Akechi smiled at the artist, “I believe these two noble thieves chose us for our strong values. I can sense it from you even though we’ve barely even met.”

Yusuke felt himself sink to the floor and gave in, sitting down with his head limply hanging down, “I… still have no idea… what you are trying to say.”

He heard a sigh from the other, “I suppose there’s no point trying to explain everything when you’re this exhausted. Just rest for now, I’ll make sure the doctor takes a look at you too and I’ll make sure there’s no confusion in due time.”

 

* * *

 

Indeed, it did appear as though the doctor was a trustworthy enough of a confidant for Akechi to bring in these bizarre conditions. The middle-aged man asked no questions besides what was medically necessary, only making a short remark about “how the boy must still be confused.” There was no other conversation otherwise and the doctor did a good job of making himself quick to arrive, quick to leave.

There wasn’t much else that Yusuke could remember, besides Akechi moving Madarame’s unconscious body to his bed, and Yusuke shuffling to his own bed not long afterward. Akechi made one last brief appearance in Yusuke’s bedroom.

“I have business to attend to, but I’ll check in again in a day or so. Let me know if anything peculiar happens to Madarame, though I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He slipped something on Yusuke’s desk before promptly leaving.

He should have asked the detective about what exactly he meant by “peculiar.”

Madarame awoke the next day, or at least his physical body did. All he did was stare up at the ceiling, not bothering to sit up on the bed, let alone attend to the exhibition or even eat or drink. The uncanny stillness, broken only by blinks and slow breaths, made Yusuke wonder if he’d stepped into some parallel dimension by accident, where everything else appears to be normal, yet the air of uncanniness can’t be wiped away.

Yusuke tried to keep some semblance of his normal life by trying to paint in the morning, but found himself at a complete blank. He couldn’t be more grateful that today was a Sunday, and that he didn’t have to deal with the choice between attempting to act normal in school or skipping classes entirely. Not that he would be back to normal by Monday. In fact, he highly doubted “normal” would ever come back.

Around dinnertime, the young artist entered Madarame’s room with a small meal of brown rice, bean sprouts, and a little tuna. He even made sure to bring the old man’s favorite green tea, hoping something small as this might bring a little life back into his mentor.

“Sensei… You’ve been laying down all day without anything to eat. Please sit up and at least have dinner.”

A protest or a complete non-response would have been preferred to the mechanical motions that Madarame made to sit up, as if he was just a robot who was lying down in idle mode, waiting or a command. Yusuke felt like he had fallen into the strangeness of one of Murakami’s works, except unlike written works, he had no idea what was going to happen next. Everything that had felt so mundane in this small atelier had so suddenly changed into a strange and unpredictable place.

Yusuke had to end up essentially spoon feeding his mentor, who still did not speak or show any indication of having a personality. It was in this silence that the young artist started to question what exactly had happened yesterday. The room of Sayuri replicas along with the original work that was supposed to have been stolen long ago, the brief moments where his mentor looked more like a gold-grabbing demon than a human being. That was only the starting point. What really started to throw things off was the sudden lapse in memory, the voice that had intruded his thoughts right before then, the black ooze he ate like some kind of animal, and he didn’t even know where to begin with Akechi. The detective had been so insisted on finding evidence damning Madarame, yet seemed to be interested in him too. There was no doubt in his mind that Akechi had wanted to drag Yusuke into this mess (whatever it was) and defeat Madarame.

He could feel anger boiling in him, which only intensified the longer he continued to feed this old doll that was in front of him. But was Madarame just some arbitrarily chosen target in order to get to Yusuke? That made no sense. Then… was there justification for this? He felt his heart knot up at the mere question.

The food was all gone, passively consumed by the shell of the old man and Yusuke could not be more grateful, because now he could go wash the dishes and though all these thoughts will continue to haunt him, at least he won’t have to see Madarame and only have his emotions twisted further with anger, confusion, and doubt.

While the sink water poured and Yusuke attempted to do the dishes somewhat mindfully, he felt tempted to call Akechi, to demand an explanation as to why Madarame had suddenly become a shell, as to what in the world was happening to himself, as to why Akechi came to the exhibition in the first place. He turned the water stronger and stared at it gush down as if it was escaping from something. With the dishes all cleaned, only his hands were being pelted with the water, and although the black smear from when he wiped his mouth was washed off back when the doctor arrived, the sensation of a dirty residue couldn't be washed away.

Fully aware that he wasn’t going to get anything done, Yusuke decided that it’d be best to just wash up and rest some more tonight. A layer of fatigue still seemed to hover above him that dulled his senses. Even if he somehow was able to make something during the remainder of the day, he’d probably scrap it the next day. What a waste.

Yusuke open the bathroom door and flicked on the switch to see what was definitely not himself in the reflection. Sure, the reflection held the same face and body, and was standing the same way he was at the moment, but with haunting yellow eyes and small strokes of red paint on its face, like on a traditional fox mask.

 _We meet again_ . It talked almost like a natural thought in Yusuke’s head, exactly like that voice earlier had done, _I understand that you forgot some things so I will reintroduce myself. I am Goemon, one who returned to the people what was deprived from them._

“And what are you doing with my reflection?” Yusuke demanded.

 _We’ve made a contract. I bestow upon you the art of ice and shapeshifting so long as you vow to bring justice to this world,_ The yellow eyes stared, unblinking, _The system and its layers of traps are rooted in the corrupted desires of the powerful, always greedy for more. And so we shall destroy, we shall consume every last strain of those twisted motivations. You’ve done well so far, releasing yourself from the man who has been chaining you down all this time._

“Destroying another man’s psyche to make him a complete shell of what he was is definitely not the same as “releasing myself” from his influence!”

_Your old “mentor” may act soulless right now, but that’s just what happens immediately after such a drastic change. Life will come back to him soon enough, but his soul will be cleansed by then, willing to accept the consequences for his wretched actions._

“Goemon” turned his head to the side, the action that fully separated him from being just some distorted reflection, _Either way, our fates are now bound and there is little that can be done about it. But you’ll see in due time that this is the proper way to go about reforming that con artist. Rest for now, fatigue isn’t good for the soul._ The spirit walked away, disappearing to whatever was past the right edge of the mirror.

Yusuke looked back at the mirror, where his reflection was. Or rather, it would be more appropriate to say where his reflection was supposed to be. There was only the reflection of the towels that hung on the opposite wall, along with the open door, with a view of his bedroom unobstructed by his physical body. Part of him wondered if his habit of snacking on random mushrooms had suddenly broke him. Looking down at his hands and feeling them was a welcome reminder of his tangibility.

What sort of situation had he been lured into?

 

* * *

 

Yusuke had always been a sensitive sleeper, so with all that was going on in his mind, it was a surprise that he was able to get any sleep at all. What wasn’t a surprise was that a series of loud knocks woke him, despite how his eyes still felt tired and his joints felt like they were creaking like the stairs. He begrudgingly rolled out of bed and looked out the window to see a mop of brown hair.

Akechi. Who else would it be?

Perhaps he could just pretend to fall back asleep and not answer the door. Then again, would it be illegal to ignore a detective? It might not be the best course of action, there’s already so much interrupting his life. Yusuke indulged himself by taking his time as he slowly descended the stairs and opened the door.

“Ah, it’s good to see you’re awake and well,” Akechi smiled. Yusuke didn’t reciprocate, “I was starting to worry that you might have passed out for two days. How’s Madarame faring?”

“How’s Madarame faring?” Yusuke scoffed, “If you had never come here in the first place, there wouldn’t be a need to ask such a question.”

“Then you can see it as my responsibility to make sure things will go okay from here.” The smile refused to fade away and Akechi just stepped forward, phasing right through Yusuke’s body.

Shaken, the artist immediately took a few paces back and clutched his chest, as if to make sure that everything that was supposed to be inside him were still in the right places. He looked up and saw Akechi back standing where he was, however, now stepping into the house like a normal person.

“Quite a realistic illusion, isn’t it?” The detective sounded overly proud of himself, “It’s a custom technique of mine. Now, we should go check on Madarame’s condition. Things can become quite troublesome if you leave the freshly reformed alone too long.”

Yusuke grimaced at how it sounded like the other was talking more about a slab of meat than an actual human being, “I don’t need your assistance here.”

“Oh?” Akechi turned his head with a small tilt, “You’ve never experienced this before though, have you? Trust me, I’ve dealt with a wide variety of cases in my line of work. I’ve already had a doctor deal with you both while keeping anonymity. I hope my credentials are enough to persuade you.”

Well, he wasn’t _wrong._ That doesn’t stop the entire situation feeling wrong, however, “... If you make a single wrong move, I’ll make sure that you’ll never enter this place again.”

“Fair enough.”

Yusuke kept himself uncomfortably close to Akechi as they both escalated the stairs and walked into Madarame’s room, where the old man was once again staring into the ceiling thoughtlessly. Yusuke didn’t know what he had hoped for, a complete rewind back to the norm, with all of its goods and bads, or some kind of “purified” Madarame who was no longer so concerned about the politics of the art world.

“It seems we meet again,” Akechi made sure to stand right next to the bed, and Yusuke made sure to inch closer in case anything occurred, though it’ll be difficult to tell since it seemed that the detective can create illusions and who knows what else he might be able to do, “Kitagawa has told me that you have been thinking about something for a while now. Care to share it with us?”

“...Thinking?” the voice was soft but hoarse, dry from lack of conversation and life.

“Yes. You must’ve been thinking about something this entire time, considering what happened to you recently. Does anything come to mind when you think about your past pupils, or the Sayuri?”

“Sa... yuri,” Madarame stared off for a whole minute before he blinked and his eyes looked a little less dead, “I had been hiding my illegal deals with the copies of Sayuri for a while now.”

Yusuke’s eyes widened. Despite having seen all of the fakes in that room and the confrontation with Madarame and Akechi, there was something about how the old man had confessed (or rather explained) it so simply and honestly that struck something within him. It was the sense of realization, something he had half-approached again and again until now.

Madarame’s head tilted slowly and the man looked straight into Yusuke’s eyes, not completely blank but not painted with any particular emotion either, “I was supposed to have been a father to you, but locking you out of your room, not feeding you until your painting was finished, forcing you to throw up when you did manage to sneak in food… that’s not what a caregiver, a father is supposed to do. I remember what I was thinking when I abused you and the others like this, but it doesn’t make any sense anymore, why I would want to be a big name so much to do this, why I cared about the art world at all.”

Yusuke wanted to reply, to say something, but he could barely remember to breathe, let alone speak. All those times he’d gone hungry or without a bed because of his lack of output, he kept thinking to himself _this is exactly what happens if you’re not doing well enough. It makes sense that I have to get punished because I’ll just start slacking otherwise_. To suddenly be told this was out of line, after more than a decade of being told otherwise… how was he supposed to react?

“There’s no reason to… have done any of that. It makes no sense to want so much money. What’s the point of having power in the art world if it requires constant deception? Pointless.” Madarame returned to staring back up at the sky, eyes affixed to nothing in particular.

“I see.” Yusuke had forgotten for a moment that Akechi was still here, interrupting the moment with his voice, “It is good that you have confessed to us, but Kitagawa wasn’t your only pupil. There were many others that you have also treated terribly, aren’t there? Not to mention the patrons you sold fake paintings to. How will they know that you have come to your senses?”

“... There are so many, aren’t there.”

“Yes, and quite spread apart too. I’ve heard that many of the ex-pupils don’t even have stable housing.”

“What are you trying to get him to do?” Yusuke whispered to the detective.

“The right thing.” Akechi stated simply.

“I suppose… a public announcement would be the best way to reach everyone.” said Madarame.

“If you need any accommodations for that, I’m sure I will be able to help-”

“No. Might as well use the influence I have for something besides accruing more money.” Slowly, Madarame got up from the bed. Akechi stepped away to the side and Yusuke grabbed onto the old man’s arm to help him down. Madarame hasn’t started to suffer from weakness yet in his age, but with how much he had suddenly changed, Yusuke was afraid that the elder might just collapse.

“Don’t touch me,” Madarame brushed Yusuke off, “Who knows if I’ll suddenly want to take your art for my own benefit again. It’ll be best if we never talk again. I’m… sorry.” He walked off on his own out of the room, supposedly to leave.

Yusuke’s hand reached out, “Sensei, think about this for a second-”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” said Akechi, “He doesn’t have any desire to keep amassing fame, nor does he have the desire to keep everything under the sheets to prevent losing face. Take all that away and what’s left? The morals that have been instilled in every person from childhood. They aren’t based on desire, but what’s right and wrong.”

“So all of this really was…” Yusuke’s hand fell along with his spirit. A feeling of something like disgust started to boil, both at Madarame’s immorality and his own unwillingness to look at such vice in the eye, “... How deplorable of me.”

“...Deplorable? I wouldn’t say that,” Akechi glanced at his watch, “You’ll have to wait a bit again, but in the meantime why don’t we stop by a cafe? There’s a quiet one down in Yongen-jaya that is quite comfortable,” He smiled at Yusuke’s face of doubt, “Considering the amount of distress all of this has caused, it's really the least I can do.”

Yusuke wanted to object, but at the same time… There’s no way he’d reject a food opportunity, even if it’s just coffee.

 

* * *

 

Thank god it wasn’t just coffee. Akechi had gotten hungry by the time they reached the small cafe known as Leblanc, and so decided to order some curry. Yusuke hesitated at first, empty stomach but dwindling wallet in mind.

Akechi waved his hand, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll treat you. I’m a year above you, after all.”

“Oh, is that so?” Well, he certainly couldn’t imagine Akechi was younger than him, so it made sense. A free meal would be rather pleasant. It would help make up for the fact that this detective had literally changed his life in less than a week.

The smell of the freshly cooked curry made Yusuke think that this definitely made up for what just happened.

Wait no, no, no. Don’t let the curry win over you. Just one bite tempted him, though.

“I never knew curry could have such complex flavors. The sauce is rich but not too heavy, it’s quite exquisite!”

“Is that how you always talk…” Akechi muttured.

“Pardon me?”

“Hm? I was just wondering if it always tastes like this. I’ve never had anything besides coffee from here until now.” Akechi smiled. 

“You can try it again later to find out.” came a voice from behind the bar. Yusuke turned his head to see the balding man that was in charge of the cafe. He didn’t appear to be the most friendly type, but seemed hospitable enough in his business. There seemed to be one other person that happened to be washing dishes in the back, but the most that Yusuke could see was a mop of black hair, carelessly tousled yet not too messy.

“I’ll make sure to consider that if I want to do some work over a meal. It’s rare to see a venue that has mastered both coffee and food.” The flattery didn’t get to the owner, who went to prepare the order for the old couple on the adjacent table.

“This is a pretty quiet place, considering how many people spend their afternoons and evenings in cafes nowadays. It’s the only place I’ve been able to relax in recently, so I thought it’d be a nice place to casually discuss our… matters.”

Honestly, Yusuke barely noticed what the upperclassman was talking about through the curry. He wasn’t eating it at a rudely fast pace, not really. It was just that there wasn’t a pause between finishing one bite and starting the other until it became silent on Akechi’s side and it was clear that Yusuke should contribute to the conversation.

Yusuke cleared his throat and thought about what he felt comfortable telling the detective before talking in a low voice, “What I understand is that we must… consume rotten desires to stop a person from continually acting upon them. And apparently, we are given “gifts” to help with that.”

“Precisely.” Akechi hummed, glad to know the artist wasn’t too dumb, “Though I hope you have enough incentive to go after criminals already, it seems that consuming more desires only strengthens you, and not feeding for an extended period of time is actually weakening. It can get a bit… unpleasant if you wait too long.”

“Sort of like real food…” This might be slightly concerning. Yusuke might have to write down reminders to make sure he doesn’t forget. Unlike with regular food, he can’t easily sit down and eat if he’s ever near the verge of collapse. Hospitals don’t hold banks of corrupted desires for emergencies.

“Exactly, and it’s not nearly as easy as getting a plate of curry here, which comes to something I want to ask of you,” Akechi took a sip of coffee and kept his hands around the warm mug, “I think it would be in our best interests if we teamed up, at least for the time being.”

“What do you mean?” Yusuke had a good idea what the other meant, but he’s going to need as much detail as possible before making any such arrangement.

“You’ve just been thrown into this mess, it’ll be hard for you to get yourself grounded without any guidance, and I have much experience in both pursuing and defeating criminal targets,” Akechi said in what was barely above a whisper, “Meanwhile even know I have the know-how, I’m only one person. Things are easy with singular targets, but I can’t just dive into a yakuza base by myself.”

Akechi did have a point. Yusuke honestly would have no idea where to start, except maybe a few other artists that were close to Madarame, but even then he would be extremely limited. He wasn’t sure how often he would need to keep… eating off of other people, but he’s sure it wouldn’t last him long, and Yusuke had no desire to die just yet.

“I see. Then I guess we have ourselves an alliance.”

“Splendid,” Akechi smiled, “I’ll make sure to stop by tomorrow evening. I already have a target in mind that’ll require extra manpower.” He bowed his head slightly, to which Yusuke reciprocated. It seemed they really have settled some sort of official business deal here, discussed over dinner with the muted sound of pouring rain in the distance.

When did it start raining? It was certainly dry when the two came in, and the sky was nearly clear the entire day. Regardless, the ambience felt grounding, as if it was sent from the clouds to verify that everything here is real. Somehow, it almost felt welcoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I can't believe I published two chapters in the same day! It's been an extended introduction, but hopefully now that things are really deviating from the canon, things will get more interesting from here.


	3. Enter the Ring of Lust

It was 7PM on a Thursday and Yusuke was sitting at the dining table, hands busy on his sketchpad, a completely normal evening for the student. What was not so normal was that this dining table was a Western style table that required chairs, and the table had a simple but elegant white tablecloth on top of that, too. That and the fact that Akechi was sitting on the couch further down and to the left, reading some files casually like any person would read a book in their home. Because it was Akechi’s home.

Yusuke was staying in Akechi’s apartment.

“Could you angle the paper a little more to the left and raise your chin just a bit?” Yusuke held up his fingers as a frame to capture the pensive detective.

Akechi turned to Yusuke, which unfortunately ruined the shot, “It’d be polite if you could at least ask for my permission before starting to sketch me.”

“Sometimes the element of candidness is key,” Yusuke dropped his hands, looked down at the half-finished sketch and sighed, “But there’s no use for it anymore, the moment has already been ruined. It would’ve been better if I stayed silent.”

Akechi chuckled, “You’ve gotten used to living here very quickly. I’m honestly surprised how lax you are here.”

It was too late for a conversation attempt, the half-sketch had already taken Yusuke’s full attention again, it seemed that he was trying to salvage or transform it somehow into something worthwhile. His eyebrows were furrowed and he bit his lip as scribbling sounds started to dominate the otherwise quiet room. Akechi sighed, to think that the other would become so used to this living arrangement so quickly that he’s already ignoring the host.

Akechi expected that it would take at least a week before the artist would actually start getting comfortable, especially with the moments of hostility and skepticism he received while trying to get Madarame to confess, but it hadn’t even been a handful of days. Yusuke was so hesitant to take up Akechi’s offer in the first place and only accepted it because there was nowhere for him to live besides maybe the dorm, and there he would have to deal all the extra attention regarding Madarame’s confession.

He’d never seen someone who was significantly shaken by such an event to bounce right back into a normal routine so… seamlessly. The only explanation must be that Yusuke must be hiding whatever he must be feeling to not sour the mood, that must be it.

Yusuke started to hum and then made a comment to himself about the “aftertaste of the strokes.”

Akechi doubled back on his conjecture. No, this guy was something special, alright. He tried to focus on the files again, looking over reports of blackmailing and human trafficking that had been elevating in Shibuya. There were only names of a couple of members involved, but they were merely grunts that would harass women in the streets until some “gentlemen” would try to come to the rescue, though there were hints that these seemingly charitable men were the ones that would actually kidnap the women and steer them to an unfortunate fate. The detective was surprised that this case had practically been in the backburner until recently, when there have been reports of high school girls being abducted and even a case of a middle school student.

He glanced over at his phone to check the lock screen, which always seemed to be full of notifications. The majority of them had to do with meeting details with members of law enforcement. There were a couple of calendar reminders about exams, which were of low priority, and some messages from some of his more… private clients. Akechi put his phone back down and leaned back on the sofa as he resumed reading. Perhaps he should have some tea later, to make the most of this relatively stress-free evening. Despite the artist’s eccentricities, Akechi appreciated that he was so close by now, since it makes convening over the more vigilante aspects of his work.

Akechi got through the entire folder that had a mix of criminal reports, newspaper articles, and even noteworthy blog posts that gave clues on the home base of the criminal organization. Sighing, he plopped the folder on the coffee table and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, Yusuke’s face was looming above, a little too close for comfort.

Akechi jolted and immediately increased the distance between them, “W-What are you doing here? You were so focused on your drawing just a second ago.”

“I was going to ask when we were going to get ramen, since you were suggesting it so much yesterday,” Yusuke sounded too nonchalant, “But your resting face was quite pleasing to the eye at this angle, unlike that fake smile you put on so often.”

“...For someone who can discern expressions so well you are absolutely clueless.” Akechi’s mouth settled into a disappointed frown.

“...Pardon?”

Akechi stared blankly at the tall boy. It’s only been a couple of days and he was already asking himself if Yusuke Kitagawa is even real. Even just yesterday they barely said a word to each other until meal times, and even then Akechi had to take the initiative because Yusuke was so preoccupied trying to vent out all of his frustrations on the canvas: first with oil paints, then a sharp change to charcoal, and when Akechi peeked into the living room at an ungodly hour, the artist had somehow resorted to making a collage with old magazines that were left next to the trash bin, along with some newspapers he’d picked up after dinner. But now he seemed to be working on… more normal(?) art, and seemed drastically well-adjusted today.

“Anyway,” Akechi stood up and re-adjusted his gloves, “You were talking about the ramen shop? It’s actually only a fifteen minute walk from here. There’s a cafe next door that recently opened and seems to be a big hit, so we won’t need to go all the way to Yongen-Jaya if you want coffee afterward.”

“Sounds pleasant.” Yusuke actually smiled a little and Akechi found himself subconsciously mimicking the other. It felt odd for someone to, how to say it, expect some time with him, even if it might just be for free food in the end.

“So ramen then coffee it is. It’ll be a good way to calm down for the night.” Akechi smiled and put on his loafers in front of the door. After this, he can actually start explaining the criminal organization they’ll target and maybe see what Yusuke’s shapeshifting abilities were like. Yusuke hadn’t told him anything about Goemon or the specific abilities he was granted, but Akechi was able to get a good amount of information from Robin Hood. He’ll have to approach the subject gently, though. He can’t afford to let the other hold suspicions against him at this formative stage of their alliance.

Akechi opened the door but found his view blocked by two girls who appeared to have just ran over here, breathing heavily.

“Makoto? Hifumi? What’s going on here?”

Yusuke peeked at the two from behind, “We’re about to go dine now, so if you can excuse us-”

“Akechi, we need to talk.” Makoto said in her commanding voice that befitted a leader, “I know we planned to meet on Saturday, but Hifumi and I got word that the human trafficking group was going to hold a major auction with the girls they’ve kidnapped tomorrow night.”

“We happened to be nearby,” Hifumi added, “So we figured it would be worth coming over, as it’d be easier to talk in person,” The black-haired girl peered closer, “Ah… Have we met before?”

Yusuke blinked, “Oh. You’re that shogi player, aren’t you?”

“I think we should all sit down and figure out a plan if what you’re saying is true.” Akechi interrupted before this just became a meet-and-greet session, “We won’t be able to talk about this over a restaurant.”

“And I was so looking forward to the ramen.” Yusuke looked downwards, disappointed, but complied and went directly to the dining table.

“Ah first of all, this is Yusuke. He’s the person who made a contract a couple of days ago. I believe I’ve told both of you about that,” Akechi said as he pulled out chairs for the two ladies before taking a seat himself, “Yusuke, this is Makoto Nijima and Hifumi Togo, both of whom are also working with us for the time being.”

The three exchanged pleasantries before Akechi got down straight to business, “Tell me, what is this auction that’s being planned and where did you get this information from?”

Makoto and Hifumi shared a nervous glance.

“We… actually encountered some of the recruiters,” Makoto started off, hesitant, “We were investigating the seedier parts of Shibuya and if it weren’t for our abilities…”

“Wait, you used your abilities in plain daylight?” Akechi frowned, “I thought I’ve made myself clear on how risky it is to do that, and in school uniforms, no less.”

“I-It was my fault. There wasn’t anything we could really do, so um, I may have summoned a dragon…” Hifumi stumbled over her words, averting Akechi’s gaze, “Only for a moment though! The sight was enough for them to freak and run, and since we were deep in an alleyway, there was no one else that saw us…”

“But before that,” Makoto interjected, detracting attention from the other girl for her sake, “They made references that we’ll be part of a “big show” tomorrow night that would involve a crowd of patrons willing to spend fortunes for us. I managed to meet one of our past targets, apparently he had just given away all of his possessions to live on the streets rather than give them to the police, and he confirmed that the group holds large auctions occasionally, and even told us what venue they use.”

“An auction… That means not only will a majority of the group be there, but there will be a swarm of equally deplorable buyers.” Yusuke noted.

“There’s been a large human trafficking organization hiding in Shibuya. I was going to explain in greater detail after our dinner, but it seems we have urgent business to attend to.” Akechi explained.

“What a vile group.”

“Yusuke, was it? Can I use a page from your sketchbook?” Hifumi asked

The artist hesitated and his hand reached out for the sketchbook, not to hand it over but to clench it, “What for?”

Akechi smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve got extra paper for scrap notes in my folder.” He wasted no time procuring the folder from the coffee table and taking the cleanest sheet which only have a few notes on the upper right corner. He didn’t understand why Yusuke seemed so against the idea of lending a single piece of paper, but decided to label it an artist’s quirk for the sake of simplicity.

Hifumi sketched out a map of a block of Shibuya with impressive speed and accuracy, like a military strategist. She must be quite used to this, “This is the Shibuya Granbell Hotel,” she pointed to the building she marked with a big star, “I don’t know how they managed to secure a luxury hotel for this kind of event but there must be some sort of secret lounge, possibly underground.”

The shogi player produced a coin wallet and pulled out four shogi pieces, “Yusuke, may I ask what your talents are?”

“I’m not sure how art will be able to help with this effort-”

“She means abilities. Of the superhuman kind.” Akechi clarified. He had to restrain himself from facepalming when Yusuke appeared genuinely surprised.

“Oh. I can use ice to my advantage. I believe I can also shapeshift, but I haven’t had the opportunity to use that ability quite yet.”

“Why don’t you try it right now then?” Makoto asked, “Try… Akechi. He’s right here as a point of reference, and of the same gender, so it should be a good starting point."

“Very well.” Yusuke analyzed all of Akechi’s physical features and honestly, the detective has never felt more exposed. Yusuke might not have the piercing gaze of a prosecutor ready to find all weaknesses to use to their advantage, but the deep gaze of the artist seemed to search for small, distinct features while synthesizing them into a whole picture simultaneously. It felt like the slightest twitch of movement might break whatever image that the taller boy was constructing in his head.

“I’m not quite sure how to actually go about this…” Yusuke’s words drifted off, as if distracted by something else. Akechi could only assume that it was Goemon, giving some instructions, “Ah. Now to attempt this.”

Yusuke shut his eyes and the changes started almost immediately. His hair seemed to suddenly lose composure as his bangs fell into disarray and altered to a perfectly matching brown. He shrunk a little while his face structure altered so precisely that his face was a perfect mimicry of Akechi. The rest of the body flowed smoothly, with his frame becoming less wiry, clothes adjusting themselves to match the detective’s perfectly.

Yusuke sighed and opened his eyes, “How does this look?”

“I was about to say that you almost look more like Akechi than Akechi himself… But the voice gave it away.” Makoto frowned.

“Hm…” Hifumi rested her chin on her hand, “It’s not like your voice hasn’t changed at all, either. Try shapeshifting into one of us, we might be able to use this to our advantage.”

Yusuke nodded and examined Hifumi, taking an extended period of time since he wasn’t familiar with the details of her appearance. The girl averted her eyes, staring a little too intently on the unlit candle in the middle of the table, obviously uncomfortable and not sure where to look. Not that it mattered to Yusuke, he took mental notes on her appearance and then shut his eyes without a word, shifting a little faster now.

A dupe of Hifumi now sat next to Akechi, “...Is this a little better?” Yusuke made a little more effort to mimic the voice, but he had to admit he was not nearly as observant with voices.

“Anyone who actually knows Hifumi would know that’s not her voice,” Akechi lightly tapped the table with his pen, “But your voice definitely sounded feminine, albeit a little on the low side.”

“I think we can make this work,” Hifumi pressed her hand against her lower lip as she looked down at the map, barely giving a glance to the doppleganger in front of her, “I’m not sure what you’re comfortable with, especially because this will be your first time, but I think we’ve got just the right pieces for this mission.”

With a smooth motion, Hifumi places the lance shogi piece at the front of the hotel.

 

* * *

  

Yusuke stood near an alleyway close to where the hotel was, glancing back and forth between his phone with a navigation app on and the streets bustling with people. He hoped the plan Hifumi laid out would work, or otherwise he’ll have to look like a lost tourist for absolutely no reason.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all lost and alone here?” A man in a white suit and purple button-down shirt said, walking over.

Yusuke looked around. Odd, there only seemed to be men around the vicinity.

“Hey girl, no need to look so shy, I’m talking about you, cute thing.”

Oh right, shapeshifting. Aside from the shortness, he’d gotten used to wearing this other body so quickly that he forgot he was under disguise at all. Perhaps he wasn’t the best suited for this ability.

“Me?” He pointed to himself. He figured that keeping his words short would be the best way to keep this guise up. Akechi was concerned that anyone might be able to figure out something was off quickly, but since these people were strangers, the most they would conclude is that this “girl” might be a little strange. His current appearance as a shorter but relatively curvy girl with wavy hair dyed light brown. His large hazel eyes widened as the affluent man came uncomfortably close.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m only looking for my hotel, the Shibuya Granbell. I haven’t gotten used to the area yet.”

“Oh, I’m actually staying over there right now myself. I can lead you over there if you’d like.”

“That would be splendid.” Yusuke’s voice strained to keep it high. Turning into a female naturally made the pitch of his voice higher but he still had to give an extra effort to sound feminine, especially since he’s trying to go more for the cute look.

“Right this way then,” the shady man smiled and started leading the way, coming over to a group of other men dressed similarly where he gave a nod, “These are just some of my friends. We’re staying over in the hotel for business reasons, ain’t that right?”

The group nodded. One of them came over and rubbed Yusuke’s arm, “Well aren’t you a nice sight.” The artist had to hold back from twisting the suspicious man’s arm right there. No, that would blow the entire plan. Think of him as one of those patrons in the exhibitions. Except the art that they are babbling nonsense about is Yusuke himself. Normally, being called one of the artworks would have been super flattering, but right now he’s only feeling disgust. There’s no aesthetic appreciation in their eyes, just a perverted lust amplified by haughtiness.

“Can we get to the hotel now?” Yusuke took a step away from the overly friendly stranger.

They laughed, blowing out smoke from their cigarettes, “Of course,” said the balding one with quite the prominent beer belly, “There’s going to be a dinner party at the hotel’s restaurant soon, and I’ve heard that there will be a good number of celebrities attending too, what with the hotel’s reputation. What do you say?”

Beer belly here might be able to dress in a refined manner better than most of the men in the group, who just wear expensive items with poor coordination, but he certainly didn’t talk like that, “If it’s alright for someone like me to attend such an event, I’d be honored.” Yusuke lied through his teeth. He tried taking a page from Akechi’s book and attempted a fake smile. It came off awfully awkward and tilted.

They didn’t seem to mind though, not like they needed to care about the opinions of a girl they’re trying to sell, “It’ll be completely fine! Haha, aren’t you a cute one?” Beer belly wrapped an arm around Yusuke’s hip and Yusuke felt himself bite the inside of his lip, wishing he could just be knocked out and brought to the auction, wherever it was inside the hotel, instead.

A sparrow pecked at the ground near him and fluttered a few feet to the side but hopped close by as the group walked to the hotel. Hifumi and the rest better know exactly what they’re doing.

They’re inside the hotel now, and Yusuke is led to the restaurant, which appeared strangely empty.

“Where is th-”

The blunt impact of steel which burned the back of his head and vibrated through his skull. Yusuke didn’t feel the sensation of falling, but heard the impact of a body before he completely blacked out.

 

* * *

  

Yusuke awoke in… something. It was hard to tell where he was since it was either completely dark or he was blindfolded. Attempting to move his hands to no avail supported the latter possibility. In the distance he could hear the sound of soft sobbing, which he assumed was the cry of one of god knows how many girls this slimy organization has kidnapped.

The dull pain in the back of his pain still resonated, making Yusuke shut his eyes tight as he struggled against the rope binding his hands.

_Aren’t you going to take advantage of the gifts I have given you?_

_How so?_   Yusuke thought-asked, _I certainly don’t intend on making this room a freezer for all of these victims._

He could feel Goemon sigh, which oddly enough, almost induced Yusuke to sigh himself in sync. It was certainly odd to have two being sharing the same thinking space, was this an issue for Akechi, Makoto, and Hifumi too? Anyway, he was going to go off on tangents now, which certainly does nothing to these restraints. What could Goemon be talking about?

“Ah, that’s right.” He thought out loud. The soft sobbing stopped. Oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud. But if anything, this just meant that Yusuke has to work faster to get these girls freed, otherwise it just sounds like he’s talking nonsense.

Taking a deep breath, Yusuke focused his attention on his wrists, where the rope was bounded tightly. A large, sharp crystal of ice formed in the middle, and he rubbed his hands together. The rope didn’t last long against the makeshift knife and Yusuke smiled when he felt the burning sensation of friction stop as the two pieces of rope fell off. The blindfold and rope binding his feet followed swiftly afterwards.

They appeared to be in some large supply room, going by the creates of boxes that were the only objects that broke the sea of kidnapped victims, all of them too young and were bounded down the same way that Yusuke was. If the room were any smaller, he wouldn’t be surprised if these disgusting dealers started stacking them up like the boxes.

He picked up the makeshift ice knife and leaned over to the middle school girl with the short black hair that was shuddering to his right, “Stay still,” he whispered, “I’m here to help.” He made quick work releasing the small girl. As he removed the blindfold, his eyes met the red, teary, but now fiercely determined eyes of the student.

“Take this,” he handed the icy knife to her, and she nodded in understanding. He did this a couple of more times, each time passing a newly made ice knife to accelerate the process. Soon enough, ropes and blindfolds were falling to the ground in a radial pattern, an emancipation that bloomed, spreading its petals to all of the unfortunate victims in the room. Yusuke made caution as he stepped gently around to the door.

Hand pressed to the door, Yusuke looked back at the room, verifying that everyone was too busy with their own business to pay any mind to him. He stared down at his body as he first changed back to his normal self almost instantly (it’s nice to not need to visualize himself vividly to return to his default form) and then got to work on his clothes, opting for a classic black tuxedo like what many of the men in that group were wearing, except Yusuke made sure it was a proper fit and was accesorized properly with a velvet tie and handkerchief set and gold watch. Just because he had to dress like those greedy men doesn’t mean he had to clash all his colors like them.

After checking his coattails were just the right length, he tweaked his hair color to a dark brown just so that he could be a little more anonymous without too much effort and sneakily left the room, entering a sterile hallway with no windows in sight. It was safe to assume that he was in some underground level, and he pretended to walk casually.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

Yusuke froze but managed to turn around with a deadpan expression. To say that the middle-aged man with the red suit and gold bowtie (goodness gracious) was irritated was an understatement, especially since the glare from those bloodshot eyes looked like he was going to tear Yusuke a new one, “I’m, I’m going to the auction, what did you expect?”

He half-expected the man to reach into his pocket and pull out a knife or something. Instead, the expression of the older man’s face switched from angry to just plain baffled, “...You’re going the opposite direction.”

“Ah, my apologies. I tend to get a little directionally confused. Could you tell me precisely how to get there? I must have misremembered.”

“Down this way, take a right at the black door, it’ll be the second door to the left.”

“Thank you sir.’ Yusuke bowed his head slightly as he walks to pass him, only breathing a sigh of relief after he turned the corner. It was miraculous how naively stupid that man was.

Fortunately, despite the red man’s stupidity, his directions were spot on. Yusuke opened the second door of the hallway to see a mass of affluent men waiting eagerly in their seats, each of them holding bidding signs. He saw the table of bidding signs directly left of the entrance and took one of them without looking at the names and started wandering, looking for a seat where he could hopefully blend in until the next move.

When he finally sat down on a seat and heard an odd buzzing noise. Was this some sort of concussive symptom? He looked around but found that no, he didn’t appear to be suffering from a concussion, rather there was this fly on his shoulder.

“Disgusting.” He promptly killed the fly with a swat of the bidding sign and brushed it away, letting the broken corpse of the insect fall to the carpet.

“You moron!” a whispered but seething exclamation.

Huh? That wasn’t Goemon. Yusuke started to look around again, trying to determine the source of the sound. He did one more look around and almost jumped when he saw what was no other than Akechi crouching right next to him, and in a cheesily flamboyant outfit too: a white military uniform that was more reminiscent of the nutcracker than what current soldiers wear, but that was nothing compared to the red mask which the absurdly long beak. Was Akechi’s plan to drill a hole into every one of these men’s heads?

It could work.

“I’ve made myself invisible to everyone but you right now, given you keep your head completely still,” Akechi whispered, “My illusions are light-based, not psychological.”

“What were you so angry about? Am I not mimicking properly?”

Akechi rolled his eyes, “No, it’s not that. Remember how Hifumi can summon creatures?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“...What did you kill just now?”

Yusuke paused as the realization settled in, “...In my defense, the insect did look absolutely atrocious. It was probably germ-ridden too.”

“ _Aesthetics_ aren’t the priority here,” Akechi growled, “Now how do you expect to contact Hifumi and Makoto?”

Before Yusuke could give any suggestions, all of the lights in the room shut down.

“Is this supposed to happen?” Yusuke asked, completely unaffected while the crowd started to grow into a hubbub of confusion and outrage. A distant shout of “What do you mean the girls aren’t there?” sent the entire room into chaos. Akechi seemed surprisingly still throughout this, either that or he went off to do something and Yusuke completely missed it.

Just as Yusuke stood up and was about to take some action himself, regardless of what the original plan was supposed to be, a screeching noise came from the speakers. Everyone fell silent, all looking up despite the pitch-black darkness preventing them from seeing even a vague outline of the sound system.

“Welcome, debauched gentlemen,” a distinctly masculine voice echoed through the speakers around the entire room, giving an all-encompassing feeling, “It seems all of you have gathered here to celebrate in your piles of gold and depraved desires, not even stopping at underage girls to please yourselves. I must thank you for your efforts in coming here.” the mystery voice chuckled.

Yusuke strained his ears as he tried to figure out who this was. This was certainly not the work of anyone in his group.

“That bastard…!” Akechi grinded his teeth.

“Now that you have all been gathered here,” the voice continued, “I will pluck each and every distorted desire in this room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Makoto and Hifumi for being female and making the same-pronoun issue a little less troublesome. Honestly, I headcanon that Akechi could probably make a better strategic plan if he was the only one to infiltrate the place, but he's absolute garbage at organizing a group strategy and it's only through Makoto/Hifumi that they got this to work so far.
> 
> Check me out @kleptoromania on tumblr if you wanna waste some time


	4. Attention Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hifumi's going to be referred to as "Queen" during missions (since the title was originally supposed to go to her when she was supposed to be part of the team in the game)
> 
> Because of this, Makoto's going to be referred to as "Rider." Hopefully this doesn't get too confusing.
> 
> tumblr: kleptoromania

As unfamiliar as Yusuke was to this whole vigilante business, he would have never expected to hear someone intrude on their plan like this, or to suddenly feel a card fall on his head. He grabbed it and without a thought, shoved it in his pocket, since there was no use squinting at a card in the pitch black auditorium.

He perked his ears and looked around, hoping for some clue about the mystery speaker. What he got instead was an earful of screaming from the front rows, right below the stage. For a moment, a spotlight appeared in the middle of the front row where, amongst a line of fallen men, a single person stood with a mask fitting for a masquerade. Aside from the messy mop of hair, the intruder’s appearance perfectly matched that of what someone would envision a modern day phantom thief with the black longcoat and the red gloves which held a gigantic mound of inky substance that barely balanced on his hand. How did he manage to extract the desires of so many people so quickly?

The thief stuffed all of the desires in a sack which he attached to his back.

“Hey Crow, looking nice as always.” he smirked before the spotlight went off and he was completely hidden out of sight again. 

Yusuke turned his attention to Akechi, who was somehow clearly visible to him despite the complete darkness, a white outlined figure drawn on black paper. It must be his abilities again (Yusuke should ask about it.) It would be stupid to describe the detective as anything short of absolutely furious, even with the bright red mask it was obvious that his face was heating up and for the first time his teeth were exposed not in a plastered smile, but in an unsymmetric scowl, grinding out his usual polite demeanor.

“What should we do?” Yusuke asked.

Akechi’s face softened a little, but there was no restraint in his vengeful eyes, “There’s no doubt that he’ll take the credit if we continue with our plan,” he growled, though the tone sounded more of restraint than aggression. Just what about this man incurred such wrath? “...But at the same time, we can’t just ditch the hotel. That’s essentially giving him more power, and the others will definitely be against leaving these twisted hearts uncleansed.”

Chaos was boiling in the auditorium, and even without light Yusuke could hear the footsteps of people running all over the place and the inevitable collisions from such panic as one by one, they fell to the thief’s hand. With the way that the stranger made his grand entrance, however, it seemed that he was taking his time by plucking desires one by one instead of clearing more rows all at once, as if inviting them to join along.

“Just… keep doing what we can. The corrupt still deserve to be punished, after all. I’ll manage this troublemaker.” Yusuke blinked and Akechi had disappeared without a trace. What a useful ability.

He was supposed to go carry out this operation despite this unexpected event, but couldn’t help but be baffled at how angered Akechi was, This new person seemed completely capable, albeit hungry for attention, and Yusuke doubted that this thief would drag them down in the slightest. Had there been some history between these two in the past that he was not aware of? Considering how new he was to this whole desire-stealing business, it was a very valid possibility. Still, there was something about this that felt inherently off to the artist, the way his hands balled into fists as cards rained down on the floor, somehow reminiscent to the petty rants that he used to sit and nod through when Madarame was in a cranky mood over some other respectable artist.

He awoke from his train of thought from a violent shake of the shoulder, “Hey Fox!”  It was Hifumi, face covered in a blue veil and a dark mask that covered the lower half of her face.  Yusuke blinked, taking a moment to recognize his new nickname used only on these missions, “What are you doing, Ma- I mean, Rider won’t be able to keep all of the doors secure forever. We’re under a time limit.”

“Understood, Queen.” Yusuke nodded. The situation was indeed simple after all: they needed to ensure that this corrupted crowd is cleansed without missing a single spot. Hifumi nodded back, the golden embroidery on the top of her veil glistening from what little light was in the auditorium. It made for a lovely complement for the sudden blue flare that followed, as wolves materialized from nowhere and howled.

Yusuke felt his hands frost over in anticipation, creating a sharp, freezing layer in between the world and his fingertips. Without a thought, he gripped the nearest man by the bicep and plunged his right hand into the man’s chest, not with a squelch, but with a fluid, silent motion that phased through flesh and bone. To these icy gloves the person was no tangible being, only an illusion to cover up the repulsive desires congealing within. With that lack of physical barrier, yanking the vaguely spherical mound of black ooze was simple, and the man fell to the ground with a low groan. 

There might have been escalated screams in the background, but Yusuke didn’t (couldn’t) notice. He didn’t even give the mound a glance before immediately biting into it, slurping the fermented goo like some rabid animal incapable of thought. And for that brief moment, there really were no thoughts, just something in his gut that yanked and pulled at him for  _ more _ . He was given a satchel in order to amass desires quickly to feed on later, but how was this even possible with the degree of magnetism between the oozing disgust and his mouth, throat, stomach?

Just how much restraint did the others have to hold in order to execute such a large-scale task?

The second bite came from the closest scream he hears. He yanked the man by the tie before the man’s instincts could instruct him to run.

“Please!” a teardrop landed on Yusuke’s frost glove, but he couldn’t feel it, “D-Do you want money? Women? Please, I can, I can-”

Yusuke pulled the crying man’s twisted desires like rooting a weed. There was a short wheezing noise before the coward’s legs gave in, then the rest of his body. The artist swallowed the mound whole this time, its oozy nature allowed it to slide down his throat smoothly. The burst of motivation it gave, while not smooth, sudden and jolting actually, made him want to run, to pursue.

The third snack occurred just as swiftly and easily, the fourth one even faster. It left something like a foul odor in his mouth but at the same time, every bite seemed to make the darkness somewhat easier to look through, every frightened scream and babble clearer with a sweeter timbre. He was falling into the moment, similar to how he would slip into one of those bursts of inspiration that carried him as a vessel rather than him pulling out every meticulous action. A beaming light of vividness that not only brought Yusuke to life, but brought forth justice as well. 

What an addicting sensation!

The n-th person (it’s hard to keep a count in such a rush), a woman, surprisingly enough, screamed for mercy as Yusuke plunged his hand inside, grasping the impurity within. For a split second he had felt almost bad for her, but the sensation of twisted lust and greed glued onto his palm immediately, and any possibility of guilt vaporized with that guilty verdict. He swallowed those desires in one bite.

“Fox!” It was Hifumi again. Yusuke looked around, searching for the golden embroidery to no avail, “Rider needs back-up, I’ll clear off the exit to the far end.”

“Understood.” Yusuke repeated, dodging the unconscious bodies on the ground as he made his way to the door. When he was halfway there, a sudden blue flare nearly blinded him, and through squinted eyes he could see the figure of a dragon, long and whiskered, swaying its head to keep the mixture of buyers and ring members at bay with its long antlers. 

“What magnificence, being able to summon a dragon like that…” Yusuke mumbled to himself. Perhaps this is why they code-named her Queen, aside from her tactical know-how. 

He didn’t even realize how long he had halted until his view of the creature was obscured by a shadow, which then materialized into the thief that had intruded earlier.

“Fox, right?” the masked boy smiled. A white masquerade-style mask with a simple black spike pattern from the eyeholes. A disappointing design compared to the rest of his attire, “You’re new. For a while I was wondering if Crow was only going to recruit girls,” he pressed his weight on one foot and slanted casually, “I’m glad I don’t get to be disappointed. A little extra spice is always nice.”

“We have well over a hundred people we need to deal with here, I have no time for you right now.” Yusuke spoke plainly.

The other just laughed it off, “You know, any one of us could deal with this entire crowd while the doors are all blocked. These might be corrupt, disgusting people, but they’re all just human in the end. The abilities we got with our contracts are a little overpowered, if you ask me.”

“So you’re contracted too…” It should be no surprise, considering how he was able to pull this off.

“We should work together sometime,” he stepped closer and Yusuke suddenly became conscious of how close this thief was. Half of him wanted to step back just for personal space, the other refused to submit, “You can say I’m a little flashy, but at least I’m honest, unlike some bird.”

“What are you trying to insinuate?” Yusuke stared right into the other’s grey eyes, gleaming with playfulness. This moppy-haired teen got a rise out of getting the full attention of others, didn’t he?

“Hm, did I say something?” The thief smirked after a quick sideways glance, “Sorry, love, but I’ve got to finish my meal.”

“Joker!” Yusuke turned his head to the source of Akechi’s exclamation. The detective’s white attire stood out with the sword of light he had formed, so bright Yusuke’s eyes hurt even when he squinted. 

He might’ve said something else, but Yusuke couldn’t tell because all of a sudden he had been pulled into a kiss with the man known as Joker. The motion lacked grace, a sudden collision of lips and their noses barely dodged each other. Just as soon as it occurred, it ended, and Joker gave a wink like this was just part of a routine performance.

“See ya.” he smirked as the darkness consumed him and he was immaterial and untraceable once more, unintentionally synchronizing with the sudden bang of a door bursting open on the other side. 

“What? When did they get to that side?” Hifumi eyes darted around from under the veil, as if reading and attempting to understand scraps of information left haphazardly, “Fox, lend me your support!”

Slightly disoriented by the whole affair, Yusuke nodded anyway and charged to the other side, skipping over the unconscious bodies that seemed to now pepper the entire floor. Although most of the customers and henchmen inside seemed to have been cleared out by now, there was still a small crowd attempting to run out to the light that now broke the encompassing darkness. Hand straight out in front of him, Yusuke shot out a beam of ice above their heads right at the gap that latched onto the top of the opening and cascaded down to completely block off the opening. Exasperated shouts and banging noises hit the thick wall of ice, but it was closer to an impenetrable barrier than a mound of compressed snow. The dragon then rushed over, swinging its tail to knock most of the targets off their feet to put them in a vulnerable position for Hifumi to feed.

“...Where did he go.” Yusuke heard Akechi mutter from behind. The entire room began to illuminate, first softly, then all at once, forcing everyone to shut their eyes or get temporarily blinded. When Yusuke opened his eyes again, witnessing what had actually happened over the entire auditorium for the first time.

It might have been apt to describe it as the aftermath of a tornado formed inside the confines of a library, except that the books were replaced with people, almost all of them in black or white suits, salt and pepper in the porridge that they had ravaged. In any part of the floor that wasn’t occupied by a human body or two, there were cards in an attention-grabbing red and black. Surprisingly enough, the blood loss was at a minimum, some heads damp with the fluid after hitting something on their collapse. The only real blood splatter that was noticeable was right on the stage. A corpse laid flat in the middle of the stage like a dead fish, revolver still in hand, stomach protruding as though something wished to escape. It was the balding, beer-bellied man from before.

How horrid he must have been to want to keep his rotten desires to himself until the end.

The silence was unsettling after the chaos that had filled the background before, and tinnitus settled in to cover the blank space. Yusuke turned around, looking first at Hifumi, then Akechi. Vaguely, through the solid ice that kept everyone contained, he could hear the wheezes of guts being punched. Makoto’s work, most definitely.

“...He’s gone, but it seemed we’ve cleaned up this area.” Akechi sounded calm now, too much so. Or was he just one of those people that can calm down easily even after being so enraged? Yusuke had no means of telling, “We’ll need to make sure the perimeter gets cleared too, but it seems we’re doing well.”

Yusuke wasn’t sure if he found it more unnerving or comforting that this calm, calculated demeanor was maintained throughout the rest of the operation - helping Makoto clear up any backup henchmen and ensuring the escape of all of the victims.

\---

“Good work today, everyone.” Akechi smiled, pouring water for everyone’s cups. He had decided that it was only fair to get a good meal after a success, and this sushi restaurant was the type where each table was placed in its own, small room, making it perfect to celebrate and discuss matters.

“I wasn’t quite sure what I was expecting as I joined, but I’m glad to see we accomplished our objective.” Yusuke said, eyeing his cup as Akechi filled it and immediately taking a drink afterwards. Those desires did absolutely nothing for thirst, “Though I’m not quite sure what to think about the… intruder mid-way.” Yusuke decided it was best to not continue when he noticed Akechi’s jaw clench.

“Joker...” Makoto’s voice trailed, “I’m not quite sure what to think of him, either. He goes after criminals just like us, but his flashy tendencies make me wonder if he just does this for attention.”

Hifumi remained silent, eyeing Yusuke as the waitress appeared and started laying the first course of the meal on the table and all of its associated side dishes. Rice, sashimi arranged to encircle a round stone, miso soup, deep-fried sweet potatoes, spinach, radishes, maki rolls, mussels. The group said their thanks as the waitress left, and were then left alone in an awkward silence.

Akechi cleared his throat, “Joker’s intentions are unclear and most likely impure, I’d stay cautious around him. Especially since despite going into battle alone, he most likely has some accomplices working in the background, considering how he’s been able to frequent our missions lately, and so dramatically too.”

“But who could be working with him though, and for what reason?” Makoto inquired, taking a piece of sashimi and dipping it in soy sauce.

“Whoever they might be, it could be out of some misguided sense of justice, thrill, or just money.” Akechi frowned, “We’ll have to make sure to take care of him the next time he interferes.”

“I’ll make sure to keep my eye out for him.” Makoto nodded, and that seemed to mark the end of that conversation. None of the members at the table were particularly talkative, so the room was mainly filled with the sounds of eating, interspersed with small bits of conversation, all of which completely professional by nature, vague ideas for the next possible mission and how long they should wait before acting again, even discussion about a possible weapons deal. 

“Perhaps a gun might be useful at some point…” Hifumi pondered.

“We’re not getting guns.” There was a sudden, strong sense of finality in Akechi’s voice, “We have been able to operate fine without them and I will not stoop so low to get them through some underhanded deal. This isn’t America.”

“O-oh, well, this still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have anything if I need to suddenly use long-range. Summoning then commanding can take up vital time.”

“True.” Akechi paused as the waitress came back in to pour the post-meal green tea, “I’ll think of something that’ll work.”

They departed like work colleagues after a post-overtime meal, polite but exhausted, secretly itching to return home. Yusuke could not be more grateful that Akechi was able to cover his metro fare so that he could actually sit down and rest on the metro seats instead of walking all the way back to the apartment. Akechi would sometimes fill the gaps of silence with discussion about restaurants and cafes, something which had become a bit trite by now but Yusuke was always willing to talk about food.

The casual moments of silence and small talk came to an abrupt end as soon as Akechi closed the apartment door and heard the sound of the door automatically locking.

“Trying to get friendly with the enemy, I see?” The smile on Akechi’s face was more frightening than any glare one could give.

“You could clearly see that I wasn’t the one who pulled Joker in for that, rather it was the other way around.”

Akechi chuckled but the smile dampened to an almost neutral, if not slightly disappointed, expression, “I did. You didn’t seem repulsed to it, however. I will tell you this,” he leaned closer, staring right up at Yusuke’s eyes, “Don’t let him play any fancy tricks on you. He’s only in this for attention.  _ We _ are in this for just reasons.”

“Naturally.”

“Glad you understand.” Akechi’s default smile returned unmarred and he pulled back to take off his shoes, settling down on the couch and opening up his laptop which he pulled from the coffee table drawer. Yusuke stood for a moment, lost in thought.

“Why is it that you collaborate with Makoto and Hifumi?”

“Why, were there any problems working with them?”

“No, nothing of the sort. I’ve noticed that pulling the desires of any given individual is surprisingly easy,” Yusuke finally took off his shoes and joined Akechi at the couch, sitting on the far side, “It seems a bit excessive to coordinate all of this.”

“Usually, yes.” Akechi didn’t bother to look up, apparently preoccupied with something on the screen, “A normal individual isn’t a problem at all. Would you have been able to manage that entire crowd, however? There’s also the risk of someone else like Joker coming in. Joker might have just wanted to make a show and take credit, but others will likely try to kill or otherwise maim you to you won’t steal their meal.”

“Just how many are there?” Yusuke blinked. It was preposterous to believe that there were so many people in this city with such supernatural powers him hearing anything about it.

“You don’t pay much attention to the media, do you?”

That may or may not be a factor.

Akechi started massaging the back of his neck, “There’s been a sudden jump in guilt confessions all around the city, from online blog confessions of petty crimes to larger news press events like what happened with Madarame. Some go all the way and commit suicide, leaving their confessions in a note. And sometimes, the crimes just stop.”

Yusuke frowned. He needed to work on not feeling his heart clench a little in the worst way whenever Madarame got the slightest mention, “We didn’t tell all of those people what to do after they awaken again. I presume under those circumstances, they would just stop committing crimes?”

“They would, yes, but I made sure to leave a little notice to the police department. Anonymously, of course, it’d be too big of a risk for someone with my reputation.” 

Akechi always knew how to add a little humblebrag, “A good choice,” Yusuke stood up and rolled his neck, “I won’t disrupt you anymore, good night.”

“Oh, going to sleep already? It’s only ten.” Akechi finally glanced up.

“No, I believe I’ll spend some more time on the canvas before bed.”

“Of course.” He looked back down and started typing away.

Yusuke retired to the guest room (his room?) and sat down on the stool situated for the canvas, feeling a well of motivation bubbling inside him. But where was this energy to go? He sat there, and for the first time in a while, felt energy without a goal. He held a thick paintbrush idly in his hand. The bubbling was initially pleasing but boiling bubbles can only do so much in a sealed container and yet the brush was providing no release valve. There was frustration and a tugging at his heart. 

He took out his most recent sketchbook, scanning its contents, yet nothing satisfied him. Not that the sketches inside were bad, necessarily, but they simply felt… lacking. Yusuke let the sketchbook drop to the floor and moved on to the next one, skimming through the pages, eyes barely taking in the pencil drawings of faces and birds and dimly lit corridors. He moved to the following sketchbook, then the one after that with similar dissatisfaction.

The tugging only grew tighter, demanding attention. He sat back down and the grip on the paintbrush is almost overwhelming for the thin rod of wood now. He didn’t stare at the canvas so much as he glared at it, this urging sensation was just becoming a burden rather than an enabler. Deciding to just act on that frustration, he paints the entire background a solid red. Yusuke’s hand moves to one of the smaller brushes and makes a single thin, horizontal line of black which spread and tainted a millimeter of the surrounding area. 

What now? There was no vision to guide him around the canvas, no end goal to achieve in this overwhelming red with a hint of black and gray. There was only the want, the want to do more, to make something great without any idea what it was. There was only the yearning, the need. And the need dictated no end until perfection.


	5. Rest is a Nest for Frustration

Akechi groaned in his bed, eyelids as heavy as his workload. It’s 5:46AM, the alarm clock refused to let him ignore it. He must have pressed the snooze button once, what a waste of time. He accidentally slammed the book he had barely started last night first before actually managing to turn off the alarm.

He felt himself starting to drift again almost immediately, blankets pushing him back down into the deep-

But the third alarm won’t let him forget.

Akechi sat up way too quickly and made sure to press the proper button this time, right as the clock changed to 5:59AM. He felt his head spin as his body readjusted to suddenly being awake and alert again after about four hours of sleep.

The trip to the restroom is uneventful, and it wasn’t until Akechi finished washing his face and raised his head, water dripping, that he noticed his “reflection” standing straight, staring directly at him. It was easy to forget that his reflections weren’t his anymore, it’s been a long time since the reflection in the mirror wore glowing yellow eyes or red paint on its eyes like a mask. Those features washed away almost a year ago. All that was left was another Akechi, another Akechi who only thinks and acts for himself. Whatever it was, he was in no mood to deal with whatever lecture or overly-general omen it was ready to give.

“What do you want.” Akechi stared at the reflection, head still partially lowered as water dripped from his face.

 _I know what you’re trying to do_.

“What a surprise. It’s almost as though you’re a supernatural being who is essentially part of me.” Akechi reached for the towel on the side and dried his face, standing up straight so it really did seem like he was looking at a regular old reflection.

 _I’d prefer a title like ‘Historical Hero’ but I digress_ , the reflection rolled his eyes and focused back on the real Akechi,  _You know exactly what I’m talking about. Know that I completely disapprove of this and that I can and_ will  _retract the contract if you keep this going. This “recruiting” will only harm you, starve you._

Akechi started applying his skin lotion, patting his face while he looked at the unchanging reflection, “You and I both know that you aren’t going to retract the contract. You can’t get yourself too.”

 _That’s only because-!_ The reflection grimaced. Akechi started applying sunscreen,  _This cockiness is going to bite you in the arse later._ The reflection faded away, leaving only the bathroom door behind him. Akechi stared at the lack of reflection for a moment, stopping only when he realized that his hand was now on his chest, as if to check if he was still alive, if there was an actual heartbeat after all of this supernatural interference in his body. Somehow, out of all the changes this contract has led to, he’ll never get used to the moments where he has no reflection.

The bathroom interruption only delayed Akechi further from his normal schedule and he’s considering just eating the last onigiri they had left in the fridge when he heard something fall to the floor and a muffled voice. Did Yusuke stay up all night again? Akechi pried open the door slightly and saw Yusuke wiping the wooden floor with some kitchen towels.

“Sounds like you’re making a lot of progress,” Akechi glanced at the actual painting the artist’s must have been working on all night. He wasn’t one for fine art, but something about it appeared... lacking. The most he could describe it was that there were a lot of black slashes on a otherwise red painting.

“Hardly.” Yusuke looked up at Akechi with dead red eyes, “I’ve been haunted all night by the need to make something profound and yet I’ve ended up with this drivel.”

“It might be best to take a rest, haunting or no,” Akechi’s eyebrows lowered in a show of slight concern, “Don’t you have to go to school in a couple of hours?”

Yusuke blinked. He had completely forgotten about school, hasn’t he? “Yes… Perhaps I should try to take a nap.”

“You do that.” Akechi closed the door and wasted no time in throwing on his clothes and grabbing the onigiri before sitting down on the dining table with his laptop. If there was one benefit to living alone for so long it was that he had no parents that he had to convince to sign him up for online courses instead of traditional schooling. Considering the flexible hours that detective work demanded, online courses were the only way to make this livelihood possible. It helped that fast-forwarding was always an option with the video lectures.

He watched all of the required videos for the day at double speed (any faster would be hard to comprehend at the hearing level). Yusuke didn’t emerge from his room until Akechi was almost done.

“Ah, Yusuke, I almost forgot.” Yusuke stopped, one foot halfway in his shoe, “Can I borrow your phone for a moment? Makoto, Hifumi, and I all use a special chat app to discuss our matters. It’s specially designed to make it almost impossible for most people to hack in.”

“Oh, of course.” Yusuke backtracked to hand Akechi his phone. As old as the model was, there were miraculously no cracks on the phone screen, which after a point, indicated lack of use rather than proper use. Akechi had to refer back to his own phone to get the private link to the app, making sure to open it on Yusuke’s phone through incognito. A more secure route would have been preferred, but he didn’t want to make the other late from this.

Akechi handed the phone back, “It’s the app that looks like a rip-off of LINE and I’ve made sure to add you to the group. You can text me normally for regular things, but make sure to use that app for anything involving our ‘business.’ Even if you want to meet up somewhere else to discuss.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that.” Yusuke then thanked the detective and made his leave.

With all of his course work done for the day, Akechi took a break to get up and brew some instant coffee. Glancing at his phone, he figured he had about half an hour before he had to leave for a meeting with Sae about a case. He brought the mediocre cup of coffee back to the table and opened a new tab to open the Phantom Aficionado Website. It was irritating to see that the masses seemed to view almost all of this activity to be the work of a single group of Phantom Thieves (but Joker enjoyed it, no doubt.) Most of the content was filled with dribble: lazy employees complaining about their bosses not paying them enough, some otakus calling for the boycott of an obscure anime, and some people posting about the right kind of targets but for the wrong reasons. It was always a good idea to keep an eye on what the public thought, so Akechi made sure to skim through most of the garbage to see if there was anything worth looking at in the website.

He was about to quit looking for the day, but one topic headline stood out to his eyes. Attached were a string of pictures, blurry and barely discernable, clearly taken in a half-panicked rush.

What’s this?

 

* * *

 

School lessons only seem to drag more and more by the day. Yusuke already had a bad doodling habit and the guy who sat behind him noted that his notes look more like they came out of a light novel than a student’s notebook. If what he did in the past was like a light novel, then he seemed to be approaching a full out manga with the picture to word ratio. He was tired from getting zero sleep, not able to get a wink out of sheer frustration, and the doodles he made on his History notes did little to alleviate that. Small sketches of students with various levels of engagement and the teacher with his balding head were just mundane moments of life, ones that Yusuke might find more appreciation with if he wasn’t feeling the urge for something  _greater_ at the moment.

Lunch could not come soon enough and Yusuke wasted no time placing his books aside before leaving the classroom intended to head to the art studio immediately to perhaps relieve himself from this constant annoyance when he felt his phone vibrate. A notification from the app Akechi had just installed on him, was there something of immediate importance?

 **Hifumi:** Hi, it’s Hifumi. I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me? I’d like to talk with you.

 **Hifumi:**  I’ll be on the rooftop.

And at the rooftop she was, sitting at the corner furthest from the few groups of people that also hung out at this location as if it was some private place to meet up (but everyone thought of it as that and now it’s rather public, albeit better than the classroom.) She appeared to be reading some sort of book and Yusuke hoped that she didn’t invite him only for passive company as he had no business lounging in this area.

Hifumi failed to notice his presence until he was barely a couple steps from her. She opened her eyes wide when she did, as if she did not expect the artist to come at all, “Ah, you’re here. Please, come sit.”

Yusuke complied, “I see your reputation holds quite true.” he said upon seeing the book’s title,  _40 Grandmaster Shogi Matches_.

Hifumi closed the book with a simple navy bookmark with red string hanging off of it and pushed it aside with haste, “I apologize for that, I just really wanted to understand this one move that Yoshiharu Habu made,” she spoke too quickly, as if she had to defend her behavior, “...I see that your reputation holds true also. There’s some black paint on your neck.”

Yusuke rubbed his neck with his hand and there he could feel the dryness of the paint where the bottom of his palm always pressed against a vein, “I had spent the night trying to create something on a grander scale, only to fail miserably because I wasn’t sure what I was trying to truly depict in the first place,” he sighed, feeling ten times more weary as his shoulders sunk, “Something along the lines of the thrill of yesterday? I was so focused on making something I can’t even describe the result or the intention now.”

“Oh…” Hifumi looked down, not sure how to respond, then reached into her schoolbag to produce a bento box, although her grip almost slipped as she got it out of the zipper, “Staying up all night must have been tiring. Here.”

“...Is that for me? That’s too kind of you, I couldn’t possibly accept.” His stomach grumbled otherwise, opposing this nonsensical idea. His words didn’t come out so strongly, either.

“No, please, take it,” Yusuke complied, he could feel himself salivating from the scent of the sausage and the spicy squid. The rice looked densely packed, a pleasant surprise. His stomach ached for a taste, but he wasn’t so far gone to lose his manner quite yet.

He was about to ask what of her meal when he saw her produce a sandwich from her bag, obviously one of the cheaper ones sold at the convenience store right next to the school, “You made all this for me but didn’t pack your own lunch?”

Hifumi averted her eyes and chuckled, “I didn’t have much choice. My mother would get… a little suspicious if she sees me making a bento for anyone, let alone a boy. I really don’t mind, though. I had a large breakfast.”

“If you say so.” He’d feel bad, but free food is free food, and even though Akechi would not be short on funds anytime soon, Yusuke would often end up forgetting about food when he was occupied, aside from their routine dinners at various restaurants.

“This is quite delicious. I appreciate the effort you put into this. Might I ask why you went out of your way with this bento?”

“Oh it’s just, how do I put this,” Hifumi looked down at the floor while the sandwich hovered an inch away from her lips, “I’ve been working with Makoto and Akechi for little over a month now, but I’ve never really interacted with them as anything more than colleagues. Since you also go here, I figured it might be nice to meet casually.”

“I see. Well, thank you.”

A silence hung in the air as they ate. Hifumi would make glances at her book that was laid carefully to the side.

“Do you think of your classes as distractions to your shogi practice?” Hifumi almost didn’t register the question at first, coming so suddenly after the period of nothing.

“A distraction? I wouldn’t say so. After all, school’s important too. I guess, I just see it as another duty in life.”

“Duty?”

“Making sure I do well in school, in shogi, in our missions. It’s not mutually exclusive to interest or enjoyment, but it gives it a bit more… gravity?” Hifumi pursed her lips when she tried to think of the right words, “Why do you ask?”

“Lately it has been something that I have been thinking about. Of course, I get to paint here because of the fine arts specialization, and I’m aware that other subjects have their educational purposes, but I can’t help but to wonder if perhaps I can make better use of my time.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get plenty enough time during vacations, and you’ll definitely be able to focus on your craft after graduating. That’s personally what I hope for too.”

“Indeed.”

Another extended pause. Making friends was not a finely honed skill for either of them.

“Would you… like to play a game?” They had finished eating at about the same time, despite the fact that the bento had much more substance than the sandwich, and there was still a little bit of time left.

“Of shogi? I’m afraid I’m only a novice, though.”

“Ah, it’s not like that. I’m just curious about how you think. I find that playing a quick round is a good way to learn about that.” She was supposed to wait for a response, but she already started pulling out the board and the small red pouch which contained the pieces.

“Very well. Let’s begin.” Yusuke gave a small smile as he helped to arrange the pieces in the starting position.

Needless to say, the match between the competitive player and the artist was brisk. Brisk enough that Hifumi was able to keep one hand to her mouth to prevent any impulsive exclamations about her position or her opponent’s. It took more than five turns before Yusuke had no moves left, so at least it wasn’t a completely helpless case.

“Good game,” Hifumi smiled as she placed everything back together, it wouldn’t be long before it was time to return to class, “I’ll have to agree about your novice level, but still, there were actually some moments where you pulled some unexpected moves. They weren’t arbitrary, random moves you see from someone who gave up, either. They were unconventional, in a good way. It’s actually rather refreshing.”

“Ah,” Yusuke’s eyes widened slightly and his hand hovered just for a second before putting the last shogi piece into the pouch. Unconventional, but in a “good” way. Part of him wondered if there was some backhanded air to the way she said it, and he failed to read between the lines. Better not to confront it.

“We’d better hurry. Everyone else has left already,” Hifumi hastily sealed the empty bento box and put it back in the bag, along with the board and her strategy book, “I enjoyed our time here, Yusuke. We should do this more often.”

“I would love to. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow, then.” The awkward repetition added a bit of charm to her small grin, Yusuke thought.

The rest of the school day went by with little of note, besides the fact that Yusuke’s studio time was more frustrating than engaging, with the sensation of everything he made just not being quite enough grating at him. Of course, whenever he mentioned such thoughts, the immediate responses of the other classmate and even the teacher was of consolation, how the work still looked good in their eyes. That might be alleviating if he was making this just for them, but it wasn’t, so he had decided to do something a little different after school to get his mind off of whatever odd block it was in.

Yusuke stared at his phone screen as he stood right outside of the school gates. He wasn’t sure what exactly to do yet, so he just looked at the weather forecast for the rest of the day as he thought about his options. People watching was always a valid option, but that was always what he did at these moments without inspiration. Perhaps he was becoming too routine, and that’s why he can’t take another step forward, he’s been trekking up and down the same path too often. It wouldn’t account for the sudden lifestyle change that came with moving to Akechi’s apartment, but it was better than just staring at the phone blankly.

What could he do then? At least, what could he do for free or for a relatively cheap price? His thoughts only wandered to the list of restaurants that he had gone to with the detective.

“I’ve been spoiled,” he sighed. All of them were on the pricey side, or almost all of them. Wasn’t there that one cafe a bit far out that actually had a good, reasonably priced coffee? What was it called again, Leblanc?

He was able to search it up online, but there was no cafe website, and subsequently, no menu or prices available to him at his fingertips. This was unfortunate. Now it would be a gamble if he were to go all the way to Yongen-Jaya only to find that the drinks were too expensive. Perhaps he should weigh out the possibilities.

Instead he ended up at the cafe, sitting at the bar right next to the small row of books and breathing in the mixture of bitter coffee and the spices of the curry that the owner was currently making. It seemed that a new batch needed to be cooked for the old couple that were sitting at a table.

“What would you like?” A part-timer came up to Yusuke, black wavy hair in some organized chaos and glasses that softened his expression.

“I’ll take the house blend, please.”

The part-timer nodded and got to brewing without a word. He looked like the gentle, quiet type, though Yusuke couldn’t shake the feeling that he had seen the other before somewhere. It couldn’t have been from the last time he came to the cafe, when Akechi proposed the alliance. If that were so, the sense of familiarity would not be so nagging, discarding the words at the tip of his tongue.

“One house blend, here you go.” The barista placed the white mug gently on the bar. Yusuke thanked the worker and breathed in through his nose as he lifted the cup to take a sip, letting himself get distracted by the aroma and then the taste, the presence of the coffee before returning to the question of who this person was.

“It’s quite lovely. There’s a quiet subtlety to it that is very relaxing.”

“Thanks.” The short reply wasn’t curt, just shy. Yusuke didn’t say anything after that, instead taking his time to examine the atmosphere of the quiet cafe, looking back at the part timer every so often.

The black-haired boy (he must be around Yusuke’s age) finished up washing some dishes and turned around to stand at the bar, but he took his glasses off to wipe off the water that splashed onto the lenses. Yusuke watched as the other thoroughly scrubbed the water out with his apron and pushed his bangs out of the way as he put the glasses back on. From the side, the artist could see that there was a bit of a dip at the top of the barista’s nose bridge that was obscured by the glasses beforehand. His eyes looked a little bigger without the optical manipulation of the lenses, and Yusuke could get a better look at the dark, cool grey irises. His angular chin appeared more defined without the round glasses to soften his expression.

“I’ve seen you before.”

 


	6. Golden Phase

“I’ve seen you before.”

The barista blinked. With the glasses back on, he looked just as soft and innocuous as a teenage boy could be, but the visual similarities were too similar for Yusuke to neglect, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen you before. Last night, specifically.” Yusuke stared right at the barista, whose eyes gradually widened, thoughts slowly gathering to the reason why this customer seemed to suddenly recognize him, “It would be hard to not notice the similar looks considering how close you were and how flamboyant of an appearance you made,” the balding owner, who was just making some small talk with the old couple, paused to look over at the two, “Especially since you forced yourself so hard on-”

“H-hold on for a sec,” The barista stammered. Yusuke stopped, still staring straight at the other’s baffled face, “Let’s, let’s talk about this elsewhere. Come with me.”

He went to the back, giving the owner a signal to give him a couple of minutes. The owner sighed, but looked the other way. Yusuke then followed him up the stairs to the attic, which seemed to have been half-converted to a bedroom, though there were still a couple of old boxes lying around, near the stairs, crammed in the corners to collect dust.

No words were said until the barista pulled up a chair for Yusuke and sat down on the worn couch.

“What do you want.” The change of tone was drastic, though not at all unexpected.

“It seems my identity wasn’t difficult to discern, either.” Yusuke sat on the chair.

“Fox. Do they call you that because you can shapeshift?” The barista, or rather, the real Joker, took his glasses off and whatever softness that was in his eyes were now taken off with the frames. There was something about the way he stared… Yusuke felt closer to sitting in a jail cell than an attic with a open stairway.

“More or less.”

A short pause, the hesitant kind, “Are you going to report me to the police? Or are you going to blackmail?”

“I… don’t see why I would do that when I’m essentially doing the same thing as you.”

Joker looked at Yusuke, not so much like one person looking at another, but more akin to an archeologist trying to figure out what he just found, “An alliance, then?”

“I don’t believe… Crow would be agreeable to anything of that sort, considering what happened last night.”

“Ah, right. You can say Crow and I have a little history.” Joker scratched the back of his head and the bars of the figurative jail cell faded away, “Then… what do you want?”

“I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. You might want to style your hair so that your disguise isn’t as obvious,” Yusuke stood up and pushed the chair out of the way, “Though it doesn’t change the fact that grey is a very rare eye color.”

“That’s all?” Joker stared at him, conflicted on whether attempting to understand this odd degree of benignity after almost having his identity revealed so abruptly was even worth the effort, “You’re missing prime blackmail opportunity here. You’re not mad about how I took credit for the scene? Or even stealing a kiss?”

Yusuke returned the confused stare and their eyes locked with a complete lack of communication until finally, his features softened, “Well… I suppose you can compensate for that with coffee from now on. It would be nice to know your name too, unless you’d like me to call you Joker here.”

“...It’s Akira. And yeah, I think I can work with that.” He wasn’t sure if he should be smiling or frowning, so the two expressions neutralized into something lacking.

“Akira,” he paused for a moment to let the sound of the name sink in a little, “Akira. I’m Yusuke Kitagawa. I think I’ll take my leave now,” He went down a single step on the stairs before looking back, “Ah, and there’s no need to fret about whether I’ll tell Crow. He enjoys this cafe too much for me to want to sour the experience in any way. Though why he never found out in the first place is beyond me.”

Akira stared at the direction of the stairs even after the guest disappeared, processing what had just occurred in the past couple of minutes. He sighed, letting his back recline on the couch and he unlocked his phone to see a string of notifications, 5 text messages from a “private number.”

He lazily swiped the screen to open the message app, sighing again “The cute ones are always so… odd.”

 

* * *

Things fell into a sort of routine after that point. A short game with Hifumi at lunch, free coffee at Leblanc with either a sketchbook or a regular book in hand, often coupled with some light conversation with Akira, and evenings of comfortable silence with Akechi. Yusuke never thought he would come to enjoy this sort of social routine, mainly because he’d never experienced anything like this before. The rhythm kept him going through the days, even though at the end of the night, he would be faced with yet another disappointing work of art and a feeling of impatience and disgust.

Hifumi would lend a sympathetic ear whenever the issue was brought up during conversation, but she was reserved in making suggestions, unsure how to navigate the field of art. Even after all these games, Yusuke would still be pleasantly surprised by her vivacity on the shogi board compared to her usual mousy demeanor, how her offensive strategies seemed to read his mind and then some. The sudden jump in life was always a spectacle, no matter how embarrassed she might be at herself afterwards.

Akira was often much more quiet in the cafe than Yusuke expected, considering the barista’s histrionic tendencies under his alter ego, stealing desires and credit. Yusuke’s not quite sure what to think of him yet. There was also the owner of the cafe, Sojiro (or Boss, as he liked to be called,) who would often look over at Akira when Yusuke would walk in, sometimes purposely coughing or nudging the part-timer. 

“Stuck with that artist’s block again?” Akira once asked as soon as Yusuke entered the cafe, drenched from a sudden downpour of rain. He threw a towel at the artist, who tried to at least dry his face and arms to an acceptable degree.

“More like frustration, but yes, I’m afraid so.” He sighed, twisting the towel after he did what he could before returning it to Akira, “It seems everything falls short but I can’t quite grasp why or how to get there.”

“Hm.” Akira returned to the pot and poured a fresh cup at the end of the bar, where Yusuke normally sat, “Here, it’s a new blend.”

Yusuke took a sip from the mug, “It’s quite acidic, but not overwhelmingly so… The aftermath leaves a soothing sensation, somehow.” He took another, deeper drink, “The contrast will keep drawing customers back to the cup.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you should just become a food critic. Or a writer.” Akira gave a small smile as he leaned against the bar, one hand on his hip, “Maybe trying something else can help with that artist’s block.”

“I’ve never been quite productive with any other craft. I’ve tried writing several times but I’d always end up drawing the scenes instead.” Yusuke thought back to the times he tried writing stories and essentially got light novels, except with more art than words. Would those be called heavy novels or lighter novels?

“You just like to go directly, huh?” Akira’s words brought Yusuke back to reality, “Well, until you can make something you’re proud of again, you can drop by here. I’ll keep making new brews. New things always help with inspiration.”

“Thank you, Akira,” Yusuke gave a soft smile, “I appreciate it.”

Akechi rarely addressed personal issues directly, usually opting for the comfortable silence that they have developed or using conversation as a means of benevolent distraction. On nights where they both stayed up until the ungodly hours of the night, Akechi would peek in at around 3AM with two cups of tea and a brief sanity check that was just as helpful to him as it was to Yusuke. It would start with a quick round of complaints each of them had with their work, Yusuke’s often centered on his skill and attempts to match to ideals of beauty, while Akechi’s tended to target other people in the police department, bemoaning the obligatory cooperation that were required with some investigations, how things would be much quicker if he acted alone. Akechi would then abruptly change the topic to something wholly unrelated and the two would let themselves catch a small break until the voices in the back of their heads reminded them that the sun was only coming closer.

“You’ve been looking discontent lately.” Akechi said while pouring a small energy drink into his cup of coffee at midnight. Yusuke would try to stop the detective, but he would just say that it was “one of those nights.” To an outsider, this apartment would have looked like the stage of an indeterminately long contest for worst self-care. At least Yusuke could say that his long nights were out of passion, not work obligations. Though if this streak of disappointments continue, he’ll have to start questioning that.

“The bags under your eyes seem the most discontent here.”

“Funny.” Akechi sipped the beverage with a dead look in his eyes. Considering the amount of caffeine that must be in the concoction, it wouldn’t be a surprise if the rest of Akechi’s body gave up too, “At least my superiors report that I’ve been working excellently and I find some contentment in a job well done. You don’t seem nearly as satisfied with yourself.”

“That would be an understatement.” Yusuke sighed.

“Ah, that reminds me,” Akechi reached for something in his pocket with his hand, still gloved, and pulled out a mini packet of candy. Yusuke doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a glance at the detective’s bare hands, “A little relief before you slave away for the night.”

“I’ll take that over caffeine poisoning any day.”

“Must be nice to have options. You can inherit the apartment when I die in the next hour or so.”

“I’ll make sure to maintain the minimalistic aesthetic of the place through the mourning period.”

“How touching. Now are you going to take the candy or not?” Akechi forced himself to take a gulp of the drink. Yusuke stretched his hand out to take the small gift, hand brushing on glove as he did so.

Akechi’s eyes widened, showing some signs of life again, “Your hands must be really cold, I could feel it even through my gloves.”

“Oh?” Yusuke held his hands together, which was ineffective as a means of telling relative temperature, then he tried pressing his palm against his neck, “I suppose it is a bit cool, though it doesn’t seem too concerning.”

Akechi rolled up his sleeve and felt Yusuke’s neck with the back of his forearm, “Do you need tea? Even your neck feels cool. I wasn’t intending on planning another mission with the group until at least a week from now, but we might need to push it forward. Or we could go for a smaller target by ourselves.”

“Do you think it’s because of that? I certainly don’t feel cold, however. I haven’t been particularly tired or anything, either.” It didn’t change the fact that Akechi’s arm felt unusually warm against his neck, and the sensation made Yusuke aware that his fingers did feel a little cold, so did his calves and feet.

“It might just be an individual reaction, which would make sense considering your abilities,” Akechi’s arm pulled back and he pressed his hand on his chin, leaving Yusuke with an odd, warm pulsating sensation at that spot on his neck, “Still, it would be foolish to just ignore this. If you only become colder after the next ‘meal’ then that means this change is just something you’ll have to live with. If you warm up… I guess this is just a sign for feeding time.”

Akechi jotted a note down on a sticky note and sighed, “How inconvenient.” He muttered under his breath before taking his mug of caffeine and sticky note pad to his room, supposedly to work on whatever unreasonable assignment the police department gave him. 

Yusuke rubbed his neck again, wondering if Akechi, who had been dealing with this supernatural business for however longer than himself, had odd symptoms as well. Perhaps the rays of the sun bounced brighter from Akechi than everyone else in the Tokyo crowd. The people want to look but it stings their eyes to capture more than a vague impression. When the shielding of the sunscreen breaks down from the intense light of summer, the pale tones of his skin are replaced with a warm gold, like a half-divine child of a sun god. It would look nothing short of elegant with a white Greek toga or red Japanese robes. Or perhaps those bare hands under the gloves were bioluminescent, exuding a faint blue-green that glows only brighter in the dark.

The best bursts of inspiration were the ones where the energy of one’s excitement transitioned smoothly from psyche to reality, where one’s arms and hands have become perfect transistors and time felt like a mutually exclusive event. The next time the sun greeted the apartment of the overworked duo, one of them smiled. What was shown on the canvas so far was nowhere near complete, no, it would be a disgrace to display it as it is and call it a proper representation of the vision in his head, but it was only a matter of time before this would be tangible. The light from the rays, from the sun and the painting, warmed his cold hands.

The bright feeling must have been obvious. Akechi was still slaving away in his room when Yusuke got ready for school and left at the last possible minute, taking one more glimpse at his work of progress before speed walking out the building, but once he arrived to class, some of the students even went out of their way to speak to him. They were all short exchanges, all of them saying some variation of “You’re looking really happy today.” The fact that these people would even bother to talk to him took him off-guard at first, but when he replied that he “had found a guiding light,” they would look at each other and shrug, not bothering to understand the gravity of this inspiration and dismissing it as “Yusuke being Yusuke.”

What a shame that so many people go through their lives without experiencing such immense thrill of inspiration and purpose. Yusuke couldn’t imagine life without these highs and corresponding lows. Of course, the lows were horrible, gut-wrenching. They made him wonder how much paint and paper and charcoal he had wasted over his lifetime, but to live with only “okays” and “kind of goods” and “sort of bads”? The thought made him shudder. He shook that thought off as everyone got settled in their seats, he’ll never have to worry about such lifelessness.

Hifumi overslept today so they both had to settle with some instant ramen, “I was so careless, replaying my last match over and over in my head, iterating through all the what if’s. I’m sorry.”

Yusuke had to finish slurping a noodle before he could respond, “There’s no need to apologize. Even this tastes amazing during a wave of inspiration.”

“Oh, were you able to get out of your rut? That’s great, I’m very glad for you.” Her tone didn’t jolt with energy at the statement, instead it seemed to get softer, smoother. A subtle, gentle appreciation.

“Yes, I’ve found Akechi and his abilities to be a great source of ideas, it’s almost too hard to keep track of all of them. I feel as though you might hold much potential in that sense, too. However, I’m not quite sure on Makoto, as I’ve never actually seen what she can do quite yet. Perhaps another time.”

“I-Is that so…” Hifumi stared down at the floor.

“Is there something wrong?” 

Hifumi’s eyes darted back up at Yusuke, “No, no, of course not! I’m just, a little tired, that’s all.”

“Ah, I see.” The girl was permanently burdened with dark circles under her eyes. A small part of him wondered if the issue might be something else, but he had no way of really questioning it since he had no idea what could possibly be bothering her. 

The conversation was suspended by an awkward silence, broken only when Hifumi reached for the shogi board and said that they should play another game, as per usual. Yusuke went along with it, as a brief round was always what they did at the rooftop. As expected, Hifumi won again, but these matches were never about winning but rather a way to fill the silence both of them were used to.

“...And the Togo Kingdom snipes the Kitagawa king with her best archer, distance meaning nothing for her bow and arrow.” She smiled, satisfied.

“A clever win, as always.” Yusuke blinked, since he didn’t even notice that he was losing until it was too late. He even still held a good portion of his pieces on the board.

“Thank you,” Hifumi’s content expression didn’t last long and fell to the anxious mood that she held right before starting the match. She bit the inside of her lip to hold it back, but it made it more obvious to anyone with any social sense, “I hope that your artwork with Akechi goes well.”

Yusuke opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and coughed, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to show it to you after I’m done. I would love to get your feedback.”

“...Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

“Akechi, do you have a moment?” Yusuke said as he opened the door. He looked around the entire main space, living room and kitchen combined, and found Akechi bundled up in a blanket on the couch right beside the door. There was a tablet propped up on the coffee table an arm’s distance away from the sleeping figure, playing what sounded like some Featherman Rangers theme music at a barely audible volume from where Yusuke stood. Akechi opened one eye, and upon noticing that there was someone else in the apartment, jolted awake and turned the tablet off.

“Was that…?”

Akechi laughed nervously, “Ah, I must’ve dozed off. Youtube autoplay isn’t the smartest if you leave it alone for too long.” He sat up and unwrapped himself from the blanket, making himself look a bit more presentable, “Is there anything you need? You usually come in later.”

“I was in a hurry,” As if to prove his point, Yusuke took off his shoes carelessly and dropped his bag next to the couch, “Do you think you can model for me today?”

“Me? Model for you?” Akechi blinked, but didn’t sound opposed at all, which was a lot better than most people Yusuke had ever asked to model for him, “I wouldn’t mind that at all, but what’s this all of a sudden? Weren’t you grieving over a artist’s block for a while now?”

“For a while, yes, but now I’ve seen the light,” Yusuke smiled, “I’ve already made significant progress, but I’d like to get some references from the real human figure before doing more. It’d be best while the sun is still out, too. Artificial lighting just isn’t the same.”

“Ah,” Akechi looked disappointed. Why? “You have until sunset and I just happened to be the most convenient person around, is that so.”

Yusuke furrowed his brows, “...Quite the contrary. I don’t know where you got that idea. I’m painting you for my next big piece. I’m not searching for some generic model to cooperate with me until sundown, I’m looking for you.”

“O-oh.” Was Akechi blushing? There was no doubt about it, the red tint on his cheeks were hard to ignore. That didn’t change the fact that there was no reason for him to be flustered though. Wasn’t the ace detective used to attention from the masses? “I’m basically free for the rest of the week now that my work’s been pushed into a different department, so yes, I’d be glad to.”

Yusuke led the detective back to his room, where the work in progress was placed in the center, gold hues that Klimt would approve stood out in the mess of all the discarded works that have accumulated. 

“Is that supposed to be me…?” Akechi’s eyes widened. The canvas, elongated in a portrait style, featured a profile view of someone that looked like himself, head raised towards a ball of light, which dripped gold down to the rest of the canvas. Wisps of gold rose from the bottom like bushes that wrapped around his chest, but the geometric textures made it easy to distinguish from the raining sun. There was a dab of red on his closed eye, like eyeliner, which stood out from his almost white skin.

“It is,” Yusuke smiled, standing next to the painting with pride, “You can manipulate light in battle, so I made a few artistic liberties to show light in a more… symbolic form.”

“Well, I’m very touched. It looks beautiful. It looks pretty much complete, though, are you sure you need me?”

“There’s still much detail to be added, and depending on how this session goes, I might have to change this painting quite a bit, or get ideas for a full collection.”

“A full collection…” His steps felt awkward but Akechi felt, excited? The fact that he was wanted for a full array of artworks, each of which must take an extreme amount of time and detail to finish, this kind of attention was something he had never dealt with before, “Well, we have no time to waste, then. How would you like me to do this?”

“Nude would be the best way for me to learn how to capture your figure, of course.”

“Nude? I can work with shirtless, but I’m not sure if I could just take it all off,” Akechi hesitated and looked out the window, where the sky was already starting to glow orange, “You said you wanted to do this while there was natural sunlight, correct? Let’s just work with the top half, your current painting seems to be like that anyway.”

“You do have a point,” Yusuke sounded disappointed. As aware as Akechi was about the prevalence of nude models in fine art, he couldn’t help but to wonder how “pure” such requests were, “I guess I can spend this afternoon getting familiar with your torso and work on the rest of your body during the weekend.”

_ That phrasing could be improved on… _ but Akechi complied nonetheless, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off without removing his gloves. When he sat down on the conveniently placed stool just a foot away from the painting, he noticed that Yusuke was eyeing the gloves that were still intact.

“Ah, I hope it’s okay if I keep these on. My hands have actually become sensitive over the couple of years since I’ve gained my ability.” He smiled.

Yusuke’s not sure if he’ll ever learn to distinguish Akechi’s real and fake smile, nor is he sure that he’s ever seen examples of both. Instead of trying to figure it out, he opted to ignore it instead, “It really would be preferred if you could take them off, but I’ll see what I can do for now.”

As it turned out, Akechi made to be a great model. Anyone else would have taken time to warm up, for their muscles to stop being so tense, to ease out of a self-conscious anxiety. But Akechi, leaning on one hand against the edge of the stool but otherwise sat in a relatively relaxed pose, appeared almost as complete ease. Yusuke worked furiously, racing against the setting sun to capture every detail of what made Akechi, Akechi. There was nothing else to disrupt the silent focus, no irrelevant small talk from an awkward model or leg shaking from the period of stillness. If anything, the detective seemed to halt entirely, indistinguishable from a statue if it weren’t for the pair of gleaming eyes that were focusing on Yusuke’s concentrated expression and busy hands.

The sun’s setting was inevitable, however, and the dim red light was just about as useless as having the lamps on. Usually, with enough lighting, it wouldn’t matter if Yusuke tried to work through the night so long as the model didn’t get too stiff. But here, his model was acting as a source of light himself, a star or perhaps even the sun. It’d feel wrong to work on him on anything other than natural light. Perhaps it would be nice to do this again outdoors. He hummed at the thought.

“We’ll have to give up for the day, unfortunately.” Yusuke stood up and Akechi mirrored him, “I have to thank you for being so cooperative, most models can be a bit hard to work with since they’re so tense and it shows.”

“You sound like you’re not satisfied, though.” Akechi started putting his shirt back on, taking his time to button up.

“No, some more time would be nice. You said you’re free for the weekend?”

“Yes, but demanding more time is going to have to come at a cost.” Akechi smirked, “You can’t just expect to take up so much of a celebrity’s time, you know.”

“Is that so?”

How perfectly clueless. Akechi couldn’t be the only one that found it equal parts endearing and frustrating, “I’ve been meaning to try cycling on this one path and I finally have time for it this weekend. It’d be a shame if this got in the way. Unless, that is, you’re willing to come along.”

“That doesn’t sound bad at all. Though, I don’t have a bike…”

“Leave it to me,” Akechi smiled, like he wanted to hear that all along, “I know of a quality bike rental. You can just follow me.”

“Is that so?” Yusuke massaged his right hand and glanced back down at the sketches he made, “I was thinking that the outside might be a good setting, since I’m paying particular attention to lighting here. Very well then.” He smiled. 

“Perfect. That’ll work great for both of us then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up going in a very different direction than what I had intended, but I think it's for the better, getting a little more interaction before... things happen. (Or maybe I'm just dragging the fic, oh well.) Either way, I'm glad I can finally show my headcanon that Akechi is probably the only one (aside from maybe Akira) that would willingly model for Yusuke and enjoy it because this boy is chronically attention-starved.


	7. Down with the Queen, Long Live the Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, it begins.

**Hifumi:** Do you have any free time after school tomorrow?

 **Hifumi:** It’s urgent.

 **Yusuke:** What’s wrong?

 **Hifumi:** I want to talk about it

 **Hifumi:** in private

 **Hifumi:** I won’t be on the rooftop, let’s meet @ Inakoshira Park

 **Hifumi:** I’ll see you then

Yusuke looked back down at the private chat conversation from yesterday and looked out at the trees and bushes getting pelted with rain. The umbrella he brought gave him fair protection, though the raindrops would bounce from the paved trail to soak his shoes out of spite. Trying to look for the girl in the park on a crowded spring day where cherry blossom lured in foreigners and locals alike was one thing, but it was another to stare down the trail to see not a single figure in sight.

 **Yusuke:** Are you alright? Will you be here soon?

It would help if he had any idea what she wanted to talk about. The messages seemed to have come out of the blue, and with no hint on what the subject of conversation might be, he wasn’t sure if this was a not-so-urgent topic that was just delayed by the rain, or if it was highly confidential talk about their reforming business, in which the unexpected absence had… more serious consequences.

He waited for about five minutes, dead silent phone safely secured in his pocket. Nothing. Perhaps he should look around the park, though he had no doubt in his mind that she would come in from this entrance, seeing as the others would require a weird circumventing if she departed from Kosei. A small errand could change that route easily, though. So he walked around the outer trail of the park. Nothing. He tried going in a bit deeper, to the bridges and the parts of the park where, on a sunny day, people would lounge on the benches and talk and fan their heads. Nothing.

 **Yusuke:** Can you please answer? It’s fine if something came up, just let me know.

Nothing. The only thing that seemed to respond to him is the water under him, splashing with each step. Otherwise, the rain went about on its business and the plants tried their best to keep themselves standing high. Perhaps he should try looking around again? He doubted that he’d find her a second time around, but his feet shuffled along anyway. The rain tended to clear his thoughts, but he couldn’t help but feel a caving hole of concern.

 **Yusuke:** Has anyone happened to see Hifumi today?

 **Makoto:** No, what’s going on?

 **Yusuke:** She wanted to meet with me for some urgent business

 **Yusuke:** But it’s been an hour and I haven’t heard a trace from her.

 **Makoto:** Something’s definitely off. She’d never just flake.

 **Akechi:** What was it she wanted to talk about?

 **Yusuke:** She didn’t mention, just that it was urgent.

 **Akechi:** ...It might be a bit much to assume but

 **Akechi:** perhaps someone is onto her.

 **Makoto:** Was she at school today?

 **Yusuke:** I’m not sure, I didn’t see her today.

 **Makoto** : I’ll start looking for her. Lmk if you find anything.

 **Akechi:** Of course

 **Yusuke:** Will do.

Yusuke stuffed his phone into his pocket and walked as fast as he could without making the water splash all over his legs. Once outside of Inakoshira Park, he was reintroduced to society and the trees were replaced by umbrellas, held up by the trunks of people. Dark hair and drab colored clothing matched the dimmed sky, the dull atmosphere only broken by the occasional child wearing a pink or yellow poncho. There was no doubt that it would be easy to lose Hifumi in this kind of environment, with her sleek black hair and the colors of the Kosei uniform. Yusuke liked to believe he had very good facial recognition skills, but the population of Tokyo was not to be underestimated.

 _“Perhaps someone is onto her.”_ He remembered Akechi’s words. The only thing that someone would be “onto her” for would be about their whole “consuming distorted desires of corrupt people” business. She did seem a little off just the day before, but Yusuke had no way of knowing how. He walked straight towards a lonely alleyway with a broken vending machine, away from any possible passerbys. Yusuke took a deep breath and shifted his appearance, dyeing his hair to a dark brown and shifting his facial features to look more mature. He felt a shiver down his entire body as he changed from the recognizable Kosei uniform to something more casual, a purple shirt with a black blazer and pants. He turned around to leave again but stopped. How would Hifumi know that this was him?

_“...I see that your reputation holds true also. There’s some black paint on your neck.”_

An innocuous, defining feature from their first casual meeting. Opening up the camera app on his phone, he looked at the unrecognizable figure and decided to add a smudge of black paint on his cheek, near the jawbone, since the neck might be a bit hard to recognize from afar.

He started with a quick search around the district, stopping by the few local stores that were still open to ask them if they happened to see someone who looked like Hifumi, but to no avail. Next, he went to the metro station. He stared at the map of the routes, trying to figure out likely areas that she might be in as the folded umbrella dripped, forming a puddle next to him. He realized he had just enough on his metro card to go directly home, no detours allowed.

Thank god his shoes were waterproof, he thought.

 

* * *

 

 **Yusuke:** I haven’t found a single clue on my side. Have either of you fared better?

 **Makoto:** I wish I could say yes…

 **Akechi:** Even I couldn’t find any leads. Should we meet up for now?

 **Makoto:** I’ll be there in 10.

 **Yusuke:** It’ll take me longer, but yes.

Yusuke pressed the keycode for the apartment door and walked back in, shoes marking his entrance with wet noises. Akechi and Makoto both jumped up from where they were seated at the dining table and it takes Yusuke a second to realize why.

“Ah, my apologies.” His hair settled back down to a dark blue while his face and clothes shifted back to default. The two brunettes eased back down to their seats and Yusuke went directly to the counter to start boiling some water.

“Are you… making tea right now?” Makoto asked, “We’ve set up an emergency meeting, Hifumi might be in trouble, and the first thing you do is _make yourself tea._ ”

“I’ve travelled almost entirely by foot and was waiting at the park for an hour before that,” Yusuke snapped, “I doubt we’ll find a solution in a matter of seconds so I’d like to ensure that I don’t freeze to death. Besides, it’s not as though I would have the whole pot to myself.”

Makoto sighed, “Being cold is the least of our worries at the moment. I’ve surveyed Shinjuku first in case she was forced into some seedy bar or cafe, but I haven’t found any trace of her, even when I use my ability. What about you, Akechi?”

“Like I said, I haven’t been able to find any leads, though trying to find a single person in the streets of Aoyama Itchome and Shibuya without any clues is no simple feat, even for a detective like myself. It doesn’t help that I can’t really use police connections to help search the entire city since we don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into quite yet.”

“I searched the entire area around Inakoshira Park, where we were supposed to meet,” Yusuke added while waiting for the water to boil, “I also went back to school and looked around that whole area too. All of the students I saw there said that she hadn’t gone to school either.”

“I’m beginning to suspect this really is the worst-case scenario,” Akechi rested the side of his head on his gloved hand, “We should have taken better precautions about keeping our identities secret.”

“But who could it be and how were they able to find her?” Makoto asked, “Whoever this is, there’s also the question of how much they know. There’s a good chance that they’re aware of us to some degree too.”

“Yes, I don’t doubt that at all,” Akechi didn’t bother to look as Yusuke got cups and tea bags, placed them on the table, and poured hot water in each to let it steep, “We’re going to need to make extra precautions from now on. Especially you, since Yusuke and I can change appearances in some form… I suppose I could cover for you at short distances, but it’d be complicated if we run into conflict or get separated. Perhaps…”

“Shouldn’t we worry about Hifumi first?” Yusuke stared at the detective, “Now isn’t the time for that.”

“Oh right, sorry. Where were we…”

All three of their phones buzzed at once. They all looked at each other, thinking the same thing, and Makoto was the first to pull out her phone.

It was from Hifumi. There was no message, no paragraph telling them she was alright, or even a cry for help. There was only a link to a streaming website.

“A stream link? Do you think someone hacked her?” Makoto’s thumb hovered over the link, hesitant.

“Wait, this might be a trap,” Akechi stood up, “I have an old laptop we can use, in case it’s a virus.” He ran to his room and produced a small laptop less than a minute later, dusting off the top with a paper towel. It took a moment for him to get the laptop up and running, since it needed to be turned on and was slow to start. But when he went to the general livestream hosting website, the top stream in the front of the page featured a picture of Hifumi’s face.

“‘The Shogi Venus Confession,’ what is this?” Neither of the boys were able to answer Makoto, and Akechi clicked on this link to see live footage of Hifumi herself, sitting comfortably in a plain white room. The stream itself was completely silent, with the girl only looking at the camera and without music to fill in the bleakness. At the bottom of the video was the number of viewers, already over 34,000 and escalating by the second.

She might be a shogi star, but a teenager had no power to set up a sudden news conference like this, hence the livestream. What didn’t make sense was how her livestream gathered such a large audience in about 5 minutes? The three of them had gotten a direct link from Hifumi, but there was no way that she could have gotten such a large number of viewers so quickly by normal means.

“It seems we’re ready to begin.” A blank-eyed Hifumi spoke up and the chat on the side already started going wild, bouncing off questions about what was going to be revealed to absolutely no one, text racing up the side too quickly for any semblance of conversation.

“Let me begin by saying this. I am one of those vigilantes or ‘Phantom Thieves’ that have been on the rise in the media lately. Among the people who I have targeted include the sexual trafficking ring that had lurked under the luxury hotels in Shibuya, Ryotaro Akemi, who confessed his fixed matches in the last shogi world tournament, my own mother, and countless others.”

“This isn’t her.” Yusuke glanced over at Makoto, whose words had faltered somewhere between actual observation and denial, “Someone… did someone consume her desires? Was she holding so much within her for that to even be possible?” Yusuke wished he had something to say, but no words were forming.

The livestream continued regardless, “There will be some of you who do not believe me, and I won’t blame you. After all, the means by which we reform the corrupt would look like they came directly out of some fantasy novel. Even if I attempted to show something here, people will record it and try to prove it was some special effects or editing. I’m not here for that discourse.”

The chat looked like a stream of gray on a white background as Hifumi coughed and drank from a glass of water before resuming, voice flat and words lifeless, “A post on a popular website about the ‘Phantom Thieves’ about the reformation of the trafficking ring had posted some blurry images which featured me among others with the same ability. Let me clear one myth, however. I have never worked with anyone in my vigilante duties.”

“I’d commend her noble sacrifice,” Akechi remarked, “if this weren’t so rash. And obviously not something she’s doing by her own free will.”

“But who would be manipulating her?” Yusuke asked, eyes darting between Akechi’s pensive expression and the chat wall, grasping some comments such as “The Phantom Thieves aren’t a group?”, “What a joke”, and “Solo? Why???” Meanwhile, Akechi kept his mouth closed, not quite at a conclusion or even a hypothesis yet.

“The others happened to all target the same people at the same time. There are more of us than you think, but we all think for ourselves. We weren’t cooperating to change all of those corrupt men at that auction, we were competing to see who can rack up the highest body count, and who can receive credit for the entire ring and its customers. It’s actually quite upsetting to many that you think of all of us as a monolithic group.”

Hifumi looked down at the screen, supposedly to scan the chat, but her eyes remained unmoving when she gazed down, and she looked back up after exactly five seconds, “Why am I confessing this now? The attempt to gain more fame, through shogi during the day and through ‘reformation’ at night has become empty.” There was the sound of a drawer opening, but Hifumi’s face remained fixed on the camera, “I did not care much about the actual morals of changing the corrupt, except how it swayed the public. Nor do any of the others that the public call ‘Phantom Thieves,’ I assure you. If this weren’t the case, there would be no need for conflicts among us, yet the entire city knows of the wide variety of calling cards and other symbols used for recognition.”

The livestream now showed Hifumi’s hand holding what appeared to be a bottle of medicine clearly for the tens of thousands of viewers to see, “If attention was really all I wanted. This should do.

“No-!” Yusuke heard Makoto whisper.

The number at the bottom of the video feed skyrocketed as everyone realized what was going to happen and people swarmed in like flies that somehow knew that a rotten body was going to be ready soon. Yusuke wanted to cringe with disgust but at the same time, his eyes were effectively glued to the livestream, waiting helplessly for the inevitable. It’d be ridiculous to hope that the bottle only contained multivitamins. At best, they were painkillers. At worst, the bottle actually concealed some painful poison that’ll lead to a quicker, but more dramatic death.

_\- is this really???_

_-SOMEONE CALL A DAMN AMBULANCE_

_-no no no no nono no no_

_-im calling fake :U_

The chat stream actually slowed significantly, with only a few souls willing to break the relative silence at this moment. Without another word, Hifumi twisted open the bottle and chugged its contents, gulping them with ease. Makoto covered her mouth with both hands. Akechi balled his fists, knuckles most likely white under the gloves. Yusuke found himself completely paralyzed.

The fact that Hifumi gave a small smile right afterwards, the one display of emotion in the entire stream, no matter how subtle, was just about, if not more horrifying than the overdose itself.

Whatever medicine or poison was contained in the bottle, it made quick work of the girl. After about a minute of silence, with Hifumi staring at the camera with that small smile of hers, she suddenly gagged, hand reaching for her throat immediately, as if something could be done about the inevitable. Her breathing became an erratic mixture of shallow breaths that received no oxygen and sudden heaving. Fingernails clawed at her throat as her hands quivered and blood started to drip down from the corners of her lips, slowly but with bursts with each heaving motion, painting dark-red, almost black trails down her chin. There was some noise, the closest Yusuke could call it was a whine, distorted by the walls of her throat collapsing in, as if she wanted to say one more thing but was too late. Her hands started to slip and her eyes rolled back into her head-

The laptop screen was slammed shut and Yusuke didn’t realize how long he was holding his breath until a moment later, when his lungs forced him to breathe in an a faint sensation of dizziness left him taking deep breaths. He thought he heard a choked sob from his side.

“...There’s no reason to watch the whole thing like spectators.” Akechi stared down at the floor, “It would be disrespectful to Hifumi, especially since I’m sure this, this… suicide isn’t of her own will.”

“That was so… horrible.” Makoto kept the lower half of her face covered, arms and shoulders tense.

“If,” Yusuke took another deep breath, “If only I was actually able to meet with her yesterday, somehow kept her away from whoever did this. I was such a fool!” He rested his forehead on his hands.

“Whoever did this is truly despicable,” Akechi scowled and stood up. He was trying to make himself appear as the strong one, but even Yusuke could see that the detective’s face was notably paler, and a cold sweat left his bangs stuck to his forehead, “But we’ll get nothing done if we just think about the what if’s.

“I know, just, I think we all need a moment.” Makoto sighed, sinking deeper into the couch.

A heavy, thick stillness enveloped the room, leaving the three unmoving and quiet. The only noises that interfered was the constant, uncaring ticking of the clock and the occasional deep breath, meant to somehow hold back the mixture of emotions stewing over them. Akechi glared at the clock as though offended by how it kept going about its business. Makoto stared at, or rather through, the floor, sinking deeper into some murky pool of thought. Meanwhile, Yusuke’s eyes went back to the laptop, the innocuous device that just showcased a live death in front of them. Technology, meant to be objective, emotionless, brought upon a raw feeling of… everything when he watched the death of his accomplice, his shogi partner, his first friend at the school that constantly reminded him of his isolation from the rest of the world.

Why?

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps. Both Yusuke and Makoto looked up to see that Akechi was walking away.

“I’m going to think about our next plan,” he said, facing away from the two as he walked to his room, shutting the door a notch too loudly.

“I think I’ll leave soon,” Makoto stood up, hands finally away from her face, eyes red but not welling up quite yet, “but is it okay if I use the restroom first?”

“Of course.” Yusuke waited until Makoto closed the bathroom door before brushing his bangs straight back with his hand and getting up himself. He found himself hovering by Akechi’s door, where he thought her heard something from the other side. It was hard to tell with the sound of running water from the bathroom that just happened to be located directly opposite to the detective’s room, but was Akechi talking to himself?

Yusuke pressed his ear lightly against the door. If he was any worse at reading the atmosphere, he would think that the muffled sound coming from beyond the door sounded more like laughter than sobbing. The two polar opposite emotions held such similar sounds that even here, right after Hifumi’s death, what was hidden away from him sounded ambiguous.

He turned around to see Makoto out of the bathroom when he felt a prod on his shoulder. She didn’t look like she was on the verge of tears anymore, but the red of her irises looked dull, tired.

“I think it would be best if we all give each other some space,” she whispered, “I’ll be going now, but don’t be afraid to contact me if you need anything. Make sure Akechi’s aware of that too, okay?”

Yusuke nodded, and after making sure that Makoto left safely, retired to his own bed, where he laid down, shivering under the blankets and ruminating over every misstep.

Akechi sat on his desk, hands covering his face to muffle the noise coming out of him. He had seen plenty of people fall unconscious from having their desires ripped out of them, of course, and corpses didn’t stir as much of a reaction in him like they used to, but to experience a death in real time through a livestream as though he was tuning into a TV show was a different experience entirely. He should be able to handle this better, he’s learned to maintain some control in his reactions in almost everything else. Why here then…?

Covering his mouth and taking a deep breath, Akechi’s bloodshot eyes looked over at the full body mirror to his left. There he stood, him but not him. Face completely clear, eyes calm and alert unlike the mess he was in right now, crouching over the desk with his hands concealing his face like some angsty fourteen year old on the verge of a meltdown over something trivial.

The strangest little thing, though, was that if only for a second, Akechi recognized that figure as himself. As obviously unstable as he appeared right now, that calm exterior could just be painted on top of him like a second skin and it wouldn’t feel unnatural at all. The Akechi in the mirror raised his chin slightly, looking down at the real detective with a hint of condescension.

His breathing might be steadying, but as he stared at his unfeeling “self,” Akechi felt a slight twist in his stomach, and inkling of something like fear.

The reflection’s mouth curved up slightly. There was no need for words here.

Both knew exactly what was going on.


	8. Shellspeak

The sun had barely begun to rise when Yusuke heard a knock on his door and then a small creak, “Good morning,” said the detective, sounding completely normal, “It’s Sunday, we agreed we were going to go cycling today, correct?”

Yusuke’s sleepless eyes looked over at Akechi, who looked all ready to go, wearing that default smile of his that was an essential accessory in every media appearance he made. On a magazine cover or a TV screen, it would look perfectly fine, meeting the expectation of fake cheeriness. But here in this dimly lit room where the air of death didn’t linger but took over the entire area, each breath feeling thick, masking any great feeling of inspiration or motivation that seemed to take up the artist’s entire life just two days ago? The sheer contrast was so uncanny. He wondered if he was dreaming, and if so, which part was fake.

“Oh, so you’re already up, I see.” Akechi continued in the default voice. He let himself in and stood by the bed where the other was still lying on, “It has been awhile since you’ve been so productive, hasn’t it? It’d be a shame to waste that momentum for a couple extra hours of rest.”

“What momentum?” Yusuke sat up too quickly. He felt a buzz in his head and the corners of his vision blackened as his body got used to the sudden change, “Hifumi died last night and your first concerns of the day are cycling and making sure I get to paint you? What kind of selfishness- Are you just going to pretend that this never happened?”

The corners of Akechi’s mouth twitched, “I’m appalled that you think I’m doing this because I don’t care for a fallen teammate, when in fact it’s the exact opposite. You could just continue to lie in bed for hours, but there isn’t a point to mourning if you only end up stagnating because of a loss.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you indulge yourself?”

Even though the only source of light was the rising sun, Yusuke saw Akechi’s jaw muscles tense up, “I don’t know about you, but I won’t be able to figure out our next move by locking myself in all day. What happened to Hifumi was definitely the work of someone else like us, so there’s no telling what kind of abilities they might have or what else they might know about us. We can’t afford to be so shaken up by her death that we end up becoming easy prey as well,” he sighed, “Now let’s go. If we start late then we’ll end up spending the entire day outside.”

Yusuke hesitated. Akechi seemed to have a point, but still, something felt off about this. Besides, no matter how much cycling might help the detective, Yusuke was sure that if they go ahead with the art modelling session (which Akechi would probably push for,) it would end disastrously. 

Yusuke looked away, opting for the sight of the horizon instead, “If that’s what helps you, then you can go ahead. I don’t see any reason why I should be there.”

Akechi’s eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth only to close it again. Yusuke’s gaze remained on the horizon as if no one else was in the room. Akechi’s expression softened, not from any warm emotions, but out of resignation. He looked down at the ground, “If that’s what you want,” he went back to the door, holding it open with one hand as he glanced one more time at the artist, “Don’t wait for me for food.”

Yusuke only looked back after the door shut.

“How selfish.”

He waited until he heard the sound of the apartment door lock by itself before getting out of the bed, knowing there wouldn’t be any point in lying back down, as if sleep would somehow grant him respite this time. He found he had goosebumps on his arms once outside of the blankets. 

In the bathroom mirror was Goemon, as usual, distinguishable with the lines of red face paint and the yellow eyes that could dig into someone’s soul. Usually he stayed silent, because if there was no need to lecture Yusuke about anything, then there wasn’t any reason to talk about anything at all. A heroic spirit whose glory days passed centuries ago had no need to make small talk about the contemporary. This lack of communication was why the artist jumped when he heard the low voice of the thief this morning.

_ Don’t you think it’s about time to make yourself a meal? _

Yusuke blinked, “I can’t eat breakfast before brushing my teeth.”

The reflection groaned,  _ You’ve been feeling colder by the day, I’ve noticed. If you don’t return to reaping the desires of the overwhelmed, your body will be too weak for the powers I’ve granted you. Freezing over in room temperature because you can’t even find an addict or suicidal child to feed from is hardly a way to fall. _

“That does explain quite a bit,” Yusuke turned the faucet so he could wash his face with hot water, “I’ll make sure to get to it soon, then. Thank you, Goemon.”

The reflection frowned, his eyes narrowed slightly,  _ Good. It’d be best if you remember. _

“I will.” The conversation ended, and Goemon observed his contractee finish his morning routine without comment, like a normal day with normal circumstances.

Hifumi is, unsurprisingly, all over the news. Her name and face are plastered over all of the news websites, discussion boards, and social media. Yusuke types in the url for that one website on his phone, greeted almost instantly with the flashy red design of the page. Here, the mobs of the anonymous grouped him and Akira and whoever else might have the same abilities under one group, as though they were a united league of vigilantes. “Phantom Thieves,” because it was impossible to understand how their “stealing” methods worked. Yusuke skimmed through the hot discussion topics that seemed to be growing by the second: “PTs Actually Individual Hitmen: A Theory”, “A Civil Dispute?”, “Phantom Thieves can Suck My Ass”, “#HifumiDidNothingWrong”, and so on. Yusuke scrolled through a bit more, actually spending time on some of the titles that seemed legitimate enough, but all the discussions eventually seemed to melt into a pit of stalemated discourse. What was he thinking? What chance would there be in finding something useful here? He doubted that actual news reports would be better beyond having proper spelling and grammar. 

He bit the inside of his cheek. Perhaps it might be best to leave the investigating to Akechi and Makoto, the detective and the prosecutor’s sister, both extremely sharp. What did he have to contribute, after all?

He remembered the lunchtime shogi matches, short and ultimately futile on his end. Yet Hifumi would always say that despite the fact that she does often use these matches to try out new strategies, skill wasn’t the only thing that mattered here.

“It also helps me understand you more, little by little,” Hifumi had said, staring at the board and its pre-set pieces, “I think that’s much more important than just winning since these matches are casual, yes?”

Yusuke looked out through the apartment window, where the sunny rays made it almost painful to look outside. The white floor only accentuated the brightness, pushing every bit of light back up for a near blinding sight. How discomforting it was to see the world so bright despite such a violent end to one’s life. It’s as though the sun itself was laughing at his submissive thoughts.

He gritted his teeth and left the apartment immediately. Akechi and Makoto might know a thing or two more about deduction, but at least Yusuke knew the location of one certain suspect, an obvious sore thumb that stood out with his histrionics.

 

* * *

 

Closed. It was Sunday noon and the cafe that most certainly did not close on Sundays was closed now for whatever reason. 

“What rubbish…” Yusuke muttered to himself. He looked around at the completely empty street and his feet unconsciously stepped closer to the cafe, where there was a sliver of shade to alleviate the incessant sunlight.

The curtains may have obscured the cafe’s large window at the front, but there was a small door window and Yusuke tried to get a look inside, though it was hard to discriminate anything inside with how sunny it was outside and with the apparent lack of light in the cafe. The darker wood-based palette didn’t help with the contrast in brightness either. However, it wasn’t completely dark outside, which is enough for Yusuke to believe that there must be some source of light on inside with there only being one real window in the place.

He knocked, loudly. For a brief moment he considered masquerading himself as the owner of the cafe, but it’d be awfully awkward if the owner ended up answering instead of Akira.

It’s not long before his peering eye is met by another eye, a calm, cool grey that stared back, unwavering. Yusuke heard the sound of the doorknob turning but the eye contact didn’t break until the door actually moved, revealing Akira in a white shirt and jeans, sans apron. 

“What can I help you with? If it’s for coffee, the cafe’s closed and I don’t think Boss would appreciate me giving away beans right now.”

“I’m not thirsty. You did hear about what happened last night, did you not?” Yusuke’s eyes narrowed.

“You can’t possibly think I did it.” Akira paused but Yusuke’s gaze remained unchanged, “...Or you’re being serious. Alright, what evidence do you have on me? Tell me.”

“I don’t have anything on anyone, in fact. But besides the people I’ve worked with, you’re the only other person I know of who could have possibly done that.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s at least… two or three others like us. Or you might be looking for a completely different kind of person. Either way, the person right in front of you? Not him.” Akira’s hand moved to close the door but Yusuke stopped it with his palm.

“Then at least… tell me what you did last night. And about these others that might be around.”

Akira looked downwards, “I, don’t think I can do that right now. I have something I need to take care of right now.”

The palm on the door curled up into a fist, “Did you not see how horribly she died? Some twisted man or woman set up this morbid performance for the sake of sensationalism, and you’re willing to push it off for some minor task you need to do?”

“Calm down, it’s not like that-”

“It’s okay.”

The voice was barely audible from the door but both boys looked at the farthest part of the counter, where a lone girl sat, staring at a glass of carrot juice that matched her long hair.

“You… talked?” Akira’s eyes widened.

The girl didn’t say anything this time, but her head moved slightly, possibly indicating a nod.

“Who is this girl? Is she why you’re busy today?”

Akira’s head spun back to Yusuke, eyes even wider now, “Well yes, but it’s not like that at all!”

Yusuke’s not sure what he meant by that, but Akira was walking to the girl to check on her and so he followed along, letting the door close with a loud thump. The girl jumped at the noise.

“Hey there, it’s fine.” Akira placed a hand over her shoulder, placing just enough contact for a comforting rub, “I honestly didn’t expect you to talk on your own free will so soon. You’re doing great.”

Yusuke kept walking closer until he was by the stool next to her’s, and he tilted his head slightly to get a better look at the girl with the curled posture. He got a peek of flat lavender irises, lacking the small pool of light reflecting from the side of the irises that every normal person had. Connecting two and two together, he looked back at Akira, confused and more suspicious.

“What are you doing from this girl you preyed off from?”

“It’s not like that either,” Akira sighed, “Just give me a second to explain.” He kept rubbing the girl’s shoulder until she calmed down enough to take a sip of her juice. Akira slowly let go afterwards, “I was busy last night taking this girl’s desires and then making sure that she was doing alright ever since. But she’s not some criminal or lowlife.”

“Then what reason did you have to consume her desires?” It didn’t make any sense.

“I asked for it.” The girl spoke up again, still only looking down at the juice, not inclined to make eye contact with either of the boys, “I felt trapped for the longest time. My guilt just made me want to get away from myself, to disappear. I found out Akira was one of those people that everyone online would call the ‘Phantom Thieves’ so I made a personal request.”

“I can’t ignore a damsel in distress, after all.” said Akira.

“You… asked for it yourself? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Self-loathing can make someone want weird things.” Part of Yusuke wondered if this girl was really left a shell like all the other prey, since she still seems capable of sass, “And at that point, I was okay with possibly never feeling anything again. I’m completely fine like this.”

“I’m trying to make sure she isn’t like this permanently, though,” said Akira, “I don’t know if that’s possible, but I’m willing to keep trying until I can see some life in those eyes again.” He gave a small smirk, but the girl didn’t even notice.

“The possibility is only theoretical, but there’s a good chance it’s… mostly correct.”

Yusuke looked at the two of them, watching how Akira was carefully observing the girl while, despite her unusual talkativeness, kept to herself physically. He felt like secondary company, a background watcher that only momentarily interrupted what was likely happening at this cafe this entire morning. It made their story all the more believable, but the feeling of doubt still nudged at his chest.

“Did you really watch over her the entire night? I can imagine you could have left her for a while to do something else.”

“I have a history of his phone’s GPS coordinates,” the girl took another sip, “along with his texts, calls, and camera. That’s enough evidence.”

“...Are you sure you actually did anything to her?” Yusuke looked at Akira. The bespectacled boy chuckled.

“I guess you still have a bit of personality in you, right Futaba?” The girl, Futaba, only looked up without a change of expression, but that enough made Akira smile. Yusuke felt himself smile a little too at the unmistakable warmth. He’d never been aware of this more caring side of the part-time barista, part-time vigilante, but he had to admit it was much more preferable to the suspicion he felt earlier. This was most certainly mutually exclusive to whatever cruelty was behind Hifumi’s staged death.

 

* * *

 

A pale hand stayed frozen in place, hovering halfway between the door and the doorbell. Perhaps this was too soon and she should come back later, or perhaps not at all. If everything that Hifumi had said that night was true, then there might not be any point in coming here in the first place, since what was the point of giving condolences to someone who might not be able to feel at all?

Makoto glanced back at the elevator, wondering if it would be best to just leave the apartment complex and go back home. Her sister might have some information about what’s going on, though whether the prosecutor would be willing to release such details is another question entirely. The sun was setting outside in a orange ambience, dragging her shadow all the way to the “down” button.

She looked back at the apartment door: number 1004. She couldn’t just let herself go back down ten floors and take the train again just to avoid paying her respects. There was no telling how the mother’s mental state was, but it wasn’t just for the woman anyway. It was for their fallen colleague, the smart, somewhat awkward girl who Makoto should have asked for a quick match of shogi, for a study date at a cafe, for some casual pastime instead of just regarding each other professionally as though they were tired businessmen ready to go home as soon as it’s time to clock out. 

Makoto vaguely remembered the mock entrance exam that the entire class has to take tomorrow. She bit her lip. To think she even thought the time she had to spend on the dinner after their last group mission was a needless distraction to her studies.

She hadn’t learned a single thing.

So she rang the doorbell, or at least attempted to. It seemed to be broken, so she resorted to a loud couple of knocks on the door instead.

This had to be repeated two more times before the door opened with the barest amount of force, like what happens when a door is left to slowly close without the guidance of a hand. Behind the door was a middle-aged woman in a blue nightgown, both hands hanging limply to her sides. The first signs of wrinkles thin shadows on her forehead, but whatever tenseness that caused these wrinkles to form was nonexistent, and what was left were only the signs of what once was.

“I apologize for the sudden entrance,” Makoto bowed, telling herself that vacant expression was a numbness from loss, “I am- ...was a friend of Hifumi. I heard about the tragic news and came here to give my condolences. I, I can’t imagine how horrible this must be.”

“Yes…” Makoto looked up with wide eyes. Honestly, she was surprised that the blank-faced woman replied at all, let alone at a normal responsive speed, “Hifumi was a good child.”

“She didn’t deserve what happened last night. She was a good person at heart, incredibly smart, and kind…” Makoto tried to maintain eye contact but broke away, eyes focusing on the details of the doorknob from the mother’s side instead, “The media may be exploiting her death, but I wanted to come here to tell you that there are people who remember how she really was and will respect their memory of her, including myself.”

“Thank you,” the woman took a few steps back, “The media… They should be talking about me, instead of her.” The words were phrased like they were made by a sad person, yet they would have carried far more weight if they were scribbled down on a piece of paper than how they were currently brought out from thin lips that moved just enough to enunciate. The words didn’t sound completely monotone than just… empty. 

Makoto stood there for a moment, not sure what to do. Continuing to talk about Hifumi, who Hifumi was, could only go so far. Yet she can’t bring herself to just tell this shell of a woman farewell and leave like she had done the bare minimum for an obligation she’d been dreading to complete.

The woman blinked for the first time during their interaction, “Come in.”

“O-oh, of course. Thank you.” 

The stillness of the apartment made every step awkward and disrupting at best. The dust particles that one could sometimes see through sunset rays passing through a window appeared to be suspended in space. All of the decorations were normal: a vase of flowers on a coffee table, just starting to lose its freshness, family portraits hung on the wall on both sides of the television, a couch that looked so average Makoto had no idea how to describe it as anything but just “couch.” Yet as she watched the woman’s footsteps, mechanical but completely silent, head towards the dining room table, she wanted to shiver, but was afraid that the aberrant movement might cause the invisible fibers that kept the apartment together to fall apart.

They sat down on opposite sides, no tea or coffee to distract themselves from the atmosphere.

“My confession has gone completely unheard because of what happened last night.” The mother spoke, unprompted.

“Your confession?”

“Hifumi… had told me that the tournament matches I’ve fixed for her were… wrong,” the word sounded foreign from the woman’s mouth, but she kept going, soulless eyes still staring at Makoto because, rationally speaking, there was no reason to look anywhere else, “And the interviews to make her famous, and leaking that my husband is bedridden, that I’ve been working in a bar because of the hospital bills.”

“Is… that so?” Makoto certainly hadn’t heard any of this.

“It was supposed to help her, but she told me it was wrong. I told the media, but they’re just talking about the suicide.”

“That… doesn’t sound right,” It was wrong, of course, this whole ordeal was. But at the same time, any media outlet that had information about Hifumi’s life and her reputation as a competitive shogi player would jump at the opportunity to exploit her mother’s “confession.” Makoto squeezed her fingers together under the table, “Who did you tell all of this too?”

“I don’t know. Hifumi led me.”

The complete complacency was not as helpful for investigating than Makoto expected.

“Well, do you know if it was a newspaper or magazine? Was it for TV? There would have been video cameras if that were the case.” 

“No cameras.”

“Microphones?”

“No, no microphones.”

Makoto slowly bit her tongue, feeling the slow but sharp pressure as she thought. A newspaper was probably the best bet in that case. But for a newspaper to not leak this as exclusive news… this was without a doubt a conscious choice, but by whom?

She felt a bit wrong to try to press Hifumi’s mother on this. She had come here only to give her condolences after all, and also because part of her wanted to confirm if the girl had really consumed her own mother’s desires, and what could have led to that. To just… rip an aspect of a family member, no matter how bad, felt… wrong. To just waltz into this stagnant apartment to scoop up all the information from what was basically a soulless shell felt wrong. 

But this situation was much worse, she reminded herself, and if something isn’t done about it, there’s a low chance that all of them would survive.

So she placed her hands on the table, fully visible now, and pressed further, “Do you remember anything else about when you confessed, when you were interviewed? Any details are fine.”

“All of it occurred here,” the response came instantly, automated, like it was ready to go at any time and was only waiting for the proper prompt to be given before printing, “Hifumi brought two men to my bedroom because I was in bed at that time. One of them was balding, held a notepad and there was a camera on his neck. The other was much younger, didn’t appear to hold anything on him. Hifumi seemed to know him, talked to him first before the older man.”

Sounded like a photographer and intern situation. Kosei was a reputable school, there were probably some students who were smart enough to keep up with their studies and do such work on the side. He could also be someone who had recently graduated, a college student studying journalism. Makoto pursed her lips, “Did they give their names?”

“I wasn’t paying attention at the beginning. The three had talked softly before starting to ask me about what I had done. Hifumi just explained to me that if I tell these men what I have done for the past few years, then I will be doing the right thing.”

Odd how “right” came off just as artificially as “wrong.” Makoto looked to her side, “Do you recall any of them, Hifumi included, saying something suspicious during or after the interview?”

“Suspicious? Suspicious…” The continued blank expression made it clear the woman wasn’t searching for anything in her memory, just repeating words that have lost their meaning.

“...Or not.” The blank slate that people reverted to seemed to make it harder for them to discern things than Makoto expected. Did all of them really end up this bad? She bit her lip. There was no way she would have known before, she was always quick with making sure that criminals were quickly cleansed then made sure they handed themselves to the police, who took care of the rest of the work. She wondered how her sister dealt with these shells.

“That’ll be enough for today,” Makoto stood up and bowed again, “I apologize for trying to dig in deep when this should be a time of mourning. I only wanted to understand what had been going on, to better understand how this could have happened.” She looked down at the mother, who looked like she could remain there, completely still, forever.

“A-As I said before, my condolences. I hope that at least your husband will recover.”

Again, no response, just a continued blank stare. Makoto excused herself and left, footsteps slow and silent as they went to the door to put on her shoes, hurried and just loud enough to leave a presence as she opted for the stairs rather than the elevator on her way back home.

“You’re home.” were the first words Makoto heard when she returned home. Sae was at the table, still in business clothes with her laptop and manila folders taking up most of the space as though home and office fused into one.

“Sis, I didn’t think you’d come back early today.” Makoto looked at the clock behind Sae: it was only a quarter to nine. Makoto would be lucky to see her before getting ready for bed most days, or she might just come home for dinner and to get a change of clothes.

“They gave me some mindless data entry that any part-timer or intern could do.” Sae sighed, “I figured I might as well work on it at home since I didn’t want my irritation to show at work. To think they could just give me grunt work as if I’d be happy to slave for them.”

“Oh,” Makoto went directly to the coffee machine to start a brew for her sister, “Have you heard about the… suicide stream that happened last night?”

“I haven’t stopped hearing about it since it started,” Sae rubbed her fingers against her temple, “The whole statement about how the ‘Phantom Thieves’ as we know of are actually a bunch of separate actors has thrown everyone off. You shouldn’t waste your time thinking about it though, entrance exams are coming up, after all.”

“Of course not. It’s just that it’s blown up everywhere, I was just a bit curious.” She waited for the finishing notification and poured the coffee in Sae’s usual mug.

“Thanks,” she said as Makoto placed the mug next to her laptop, “But there’s no need to be curious about this. There’s a good chance this might just be to grab the public’s attention. I’ll make sure all of them are cleaned up.”

“Okay. I’ll be going to my room to study, don’t stay up too late, okay?” Makoto glanced at the piles of work next to her and figured her words would be in vain, as always, “Just… don’t overexert yourself.”

“I can’t just pick and choose my hours as I please, Makoto.” Even when tired, her words always stayed sharpened.

“Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't as well put together as I would like but you know what, it's better than leaving an incomplete fic hanging for eternity right? We all know that pain.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I'm an avid appreciator of feedback.


	9. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch, thought you saw the last of me.

Yusuke awoke with a sneeze. And another. And another. He tried to bring the blankets closer to no avail, only rubbing one cold leg against the other. He struggled in his drowsy state to gain some warmth under the blankets that had nothing to offer since they only kept heat given off by him, which was to say, none. He gave up on the fruitless endeavor and sat up with a shiver. He didn’t need Goemon’s words to know what this was.

_ Need I remind you again- _

“No, you don’t.” Speak of the devil.

_ Good. It’d be impossible to save yourself if you became incapacitated. Most people don’t need to be pushed so much because the cause is rewarding enough in itself, however- _

“The nagging can stop. I’m taking care of this today.”

Yusuke took the silence as a positive response.

He steps into the central area of the apartment, where the kitchen and living space converge into one room. Aside from the half-empty cup of juice by the kitchen sink, pulp already pasted onto the side of the glass, there was no sign of life in the place. Akechi always seemed to leave earlier and arrive later than him, apparently living with the sleep schedule of an overworked businessman at the age of seventeen. Not that Yusuke cared, though, he knows for a fact that any conversation between the two of them would end on a sour note with the current situation. He hadn’t even received any notification on the Hifumi case, either. He stared at the glass of orange juice and reprimanded himself for anticipating some news from the celebrity detective. He can’t just rely on the other for everything. At the same time, though, Yusuke had to admit he’s at a horrible disadvantage when it comes to investigation. The most investigation he’d ever done was unsuccessfully tracking a woman down for a painting, but that hardly fits into a murder case.

(And he was assured it was murder. A framed suicide, dealt by the hands of someone under a contract.)

Yusuke could see a glint of yellow from the sink, the blurry eyes of Goemon from the sink’s somewhat reflective surface, so he figured this was a good a time as any to ask.

“Goemon?”

_ Yes? _

“Is there a way for me to discern a normal human to someone that has a contract?”

An extended pause, that of someone looking back through a series of memories to find one blurry instance that may answer yes or no.

_ There have been instances like that, but it has depended on the person’s abilities… _

“But naturally you should know what I can do?” Yusuke’s eyes narrowed.

_ I don’t pull a couple of abilities out of a list and grant them to you, child. It’s based on human and Spirit together, as a union, thus I have no control over what we are dealt. _

“...Do you believe I’d be able to perceive contracts then? Or that my eye and your mind will lend to that?”

_ It would do a lot more to test that out rather than theorize over it. _

“Fine. We’ll find that out by nighttime.”

_ Nighttime? You should have plenty enough stealth to work in day, considering the shapeshifting abilities I’ve granted you! _

“It’s Sunday. I wish to visit the cafe today.”

Yusuke heard something like a growl that resigned after a second or two. Satisfied, he retrieved his bag from the couch and departed, coughing as he stepped out of the door.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome home.”

Yusuke was greeted by the ruffle-haired barista, who was slanted over the bar, wiping the wood down with a damp rag.

“Home? I definitely wouldn’t mind that-”

“Sorry kid, we’re closing.”

Yusuke stopped one step into the cafe. The owner of the cafe emerged from the back, drying his hands with a towel with a stern look in his eyes. 

“We actually close at 6.” said Akira.

“Don’t sass me, kid.” The man sighed and looked back at Yusuke, “Look, something came up and we’re closing now. I don’t care how much of a regular you are, now’s not the time.”

“Sorry honey, I’ll have to save your cappuccino for next time.”

“Akira. We need to sit down and talk. Now.” 

Yusuke took a step back, holding the door open with one hand, “Ah, my apologies. I’ll make sure to come by some other day then.” He stepped back and let the door close in front of him, both pairs of eyes still looking back at him.

Now standing alone in the middle of the small alleyway, Yusuke stared back at the door. He had no idea why Leblanc had to close so suddenly, but he figured it didn’t really have anything to do with himself. There went his Sunday plans. Perhaps he should deal with his business now? It wasn’t even noon yet, any action he made now was sure to bring unwanted attention.

He felt a deep, unsettling feeling in his stomach. Goemon’s impatience must have been resonating in him. Or it could have been the hunger of missing dinner and breakfast. Most likely both. 

He started wandering down the streets, eyeing each door and window he passed by. The surrounding area mostly contained residential areas, and shops owned by some of the older citizens. About a block or two in, a sign and the scent of bread and coffee piqued Yusuke’s interest. 

“Cafe Beau…” He glanced at the sign. Was this a new place? He certainly hadn’t seen it before and it would certainly be better than wandering around aimlessly. He entered the cafe and was introduced by two brunettes, one familiar and one unfamiliar.

The unfamiliar one bowed her head and said something, but Yusuke didn’t know what. He was too distracted by her short curls, which started mild at the top of her head but expanded at the bottom to look like a fluffy, light brown cloud. It didn’t even look like a perm, which was most shocking considering how the only non-straight hair you see around here come from permed grandmothers or girls with meticulously ironed waves.

“No, let him stay, he’s a roommate of mine, and one of us too.” Yusuke looked away from the barista to the other brunette sitting at the bar. Right, Akechi was here too.

Akechi put on that small-talk smile of his, “I know she’s cute, but don’t you think it’s a bit rude to ignore your own roommate?”

“I couldn’t help but to be taken aback by your hair,” Yusuke ignored the other boy completely, who kept his expression unchanged, “I’d never seen natural hair like that before. I thought I was seeing clouds.”

“Ah… thank you,” the girl started rolling her thumb around a curl, “Don’t worry, I get that kind of attention often.”

“I’m amazed you found me here though, were you tracking me?” Akechi asked.

“No. I meant to go to Leblanc but they closed suddenly.” Yusuke took a seat next to the other.

“Huh, what a lovely coincidence. I meant to show you this place soon anyway. This is Haru Okumura, she’s a contact of mine. Haru, this is Yusuke Kitagawa.”

“Okumura? A contact of yours?”

“Not in the political sense!” Haru shook her head, “This has nothing to do with Okumura foods.”

“And nothing to do with my detective work. Not that it’s political in the first place.” Akechi took his time to sip his coffee, “Haru also has a contract like us.”

“Oh.”  _ Like Makoto. And Hifumi.  _ Yusuke hoped it wasn’t obvious when he bit his lip.

“She’s also our weapons supplier.”

“Weapons supplier? Is there a basement with a hidden arsenal here?”

“Oh no, that’d be too risky!” Haru shook her head from side to side, curls hitting her face from the rapid motion, “I just get whatever’s needed when they’re needed.” She placed the plates she was clearing off to the sink and returned to the bar. She clapped her hands and a complete grenade launcher fell out of nowhere, which she caught perfectly.

Had Yusuke been drinking coffee, he would have spat it right onto the brand new weapon.

“This is a lightweight grenade launcher, but it’s fully functional!” Haru said with an excitement more akin to a small girl talking about her new doll collection than a weapons fanatic. The cognitive dissonance was nothing short of amazing, “I would love to show it to you, since it’s a really good model, but I just finished furnishing the cafe.”

“There’s no need,” Akechi interjected, “Can I get a slice of that roll cake you mentioned earlier? The matcha flavor sounds nice. Yusuke, would you like one too?”

“That’d be splendid.”

“There’s a new batch that’s just about done, I’ll get you two fresh pieces so they’re nice and warm!”

Akechi waited until Haru was out of sight before turning to Yusuke, “Look, I want to apologize for earlier. I did genuinely want to help in my own way since… I find some distraction to be helpful in those moments. But apparently that doesn’t work for you and I failed to realize that.”

“...Is that so…”

“We won’t be able to get proper vengeance for Hifumi if we let things like this, but I’m sure we’ll be able to catch whatever criminal did this if we… work together. Will you forgive me?”

Yusuke paused, not quite sure what was holding him back. Something deep-seated, something he couldn’t get himself to admit quite yet, even if he wanted to. It wasn’t until he noticed Haru returning from the corner of his eye that he responded, “I forgive you.”

“Good, thanks.” Akechi smiled. The sunlight peering through the window made his teeth shine and made streaks of his hair look more vibrant, like highlights, but Yusuke couldn’t shake the feeling that this warm smile only distanced them further.

Haru placed two cups of coffee and slices of the matcha roll cake, the fresh aroma made his mouth water, “Sorry for the wait, I try to make sure there’s a personal touch in the food I serve, but it takes a bit of time.”   


The two of them thanked her and Yusuke took a bite of the roll cake, “This is… fantastic! I feel the fresh airiness of a meadow and the tea flavor isn’t bland or overwhelming.”

“It reminds me a bit of that cafe in Sotenbori that I visited when I had to make a trip to Osaka for a week.” Akechi hummed.

“Oh you mean Cafe Angelique?” Haru’s eyes brightened up and she clapped her hands together, “I actually go there every time I visit Kansai, though I hope my cake doesn’t seem too similar… I’ve been trying to work on a special recipe…”

The conversation became wrapped in the topic of food, alternating between trivia and experiences that Haru and Akechi had about the various cafes and restaurants they’ve been to, supplemented by Yusuke’s knack for poetic descriptions that are almost too good for the object of desire. The three of them combined talked like a unified food critic, despite the differences in individual personalities. Or perhaps it was the distinct natures of each person that made it all work out.

“It’s already gotten so late,” Haru looked out at the sky, already past the warm sunset stage and approaching night, “Thank you for the conversation, I feel like I’ve learned a lot, but I’m afraid I have to close for the day.”

“Sorry for keeping you distracted for the whole time.” Akechi smiled, a polite apology given because it was protocol, nothing else. Just like the bills he left on the bar, clearly a guesstimate of the price of what they both ate, “We didn’t even get to the deal, but we can just do that over the phone. You got my number, right? And the texting app?”

“Yes, so I’ll hear from you soon?” She asked, cleaning the bar with a rag.

“Yes, thanks for your time,” He waved and then looked at Yusuke, “Are you going to go back? It’s practically nighttime.”

Yusuke hesitated, “No, I still have some business to attend to.”

Akechi grinned. Yusuke was starting to find that expression distasteful, he wanted to see that more neutral expression the other had during that painting session. It looked like it had more to it than a plaster of fakeness, some more humanity in it despite the corners of his mouth saying nothing at all, “I see. Don’t stay out too long then, I’ll see you soon.” He left first and Yusuke looked back at Haru one more time.

“...May I ask how you met Akechi?”

Yusuke blinked at the sudden question, “Akechi was the detective investigating Madarame’s abuse and fraud and I happened to live under the man’s wing at that time.”

“So Akechi helped you and then you decided to work with him because of that?”

“Something along that line. That and I knew no one else that could help me with this… contract business.” In fact he had no one else in general, whether it was to understand the odd powers suddenly bestowed upon him or for an extra copy of lecture notes for sick days.

Haru paused for a moment then smiled, “It must’ve been real lucky for you to have met someone to help you when you made your contract. I’m sure he must’ve been a knowledgeable guide.”

“He… has been very helpful.” It’s not everyday that someone introduces you to an entirely new world of tangible desires to be consumed and offers a room for you to lodge in within the course of… one day? Two days? It was something extraordinary regardless.

Haru giggled, “I hope your partnership with him stays strong. It’s not often that you can find someone that you can truly work together with. Most of the time, alliance are more full of politics than actual teamwork.”

“I will.” That seemed like a pretty obvious thing for her to say, “I truly enjoyed your cake. Thank you and farewell.”

“Bye Yusuke, until next time!”

He exited the cozy environment of the cafe and felt the cool air breeze in, notifying that it is indeed nighttime now. There was another reminder too, one that he didn’t need.

_ Now that the sun is down, will you finally begin to hunt again? I won’t be able to help you at all if you keep starving yourself like this. _

“I’ll get on it. I still need to use your powers, for Hifumi.” Yusuke said plainly and the people walking down the street took a second glance at this tall young man who seemed to be talking to himself, “Tell me where to go.”

_ Do you think I’m some sort of navigator? _

“...I hoped you might be. But I guess that’s outside of your capacity.” Yusuke stopped at the red pedestrian light and took out his phone, checking the local news. Perhaps there was some news about a local robbery, “I guess I’ll wander around until I find something.”

Fortunately for him, it didn’t take long before he noticed something a little peculiar. That being a crashing sound and a burst of fire.

_ That’s no normal fire… There’s some magic imbued in it. _

“I’ll check it out.” He walked straight towards the alleyway where the fire came from. It only took a couple of steps before he found his eyes stinging from the smoke and had to cover his mouth to keep pressing forward.

“Woah hey, what are you doing here?”

Yusuke fanned the smoke away from his eyes and saw the silhouette of a man hunched over, holding something like a crowbar or pipe over his shoulder. Next to him appeared to be some silhouette of a slender lady wearing a jacket but otherwise skin-tight clothing. There seemed to be a group of men around the alley, and there was a suspicious pile of things that might be garbage or people.

“U-um, are you lost?” The lady spoke, her voice seemed to suggest that she must still be a student, “You really shouldn’t be here.. Uh… We were just, trying to help these people get out of the fire! Yeah.”

Yusuke squinted, trying to get a better picture of what was going on, “Really?”

“Yeah! Definitely!” The lady tried to sound chipper but the guy nudged her with his elbow.   


“You’re horrible at this,” The guy grumbled, “Anyway, we don’t need anyone else coming in and getting caught in the fire so run off, will ya?”

Yusuke was about to reply when he felt something tug at his leg. He looks down. There’s a robber, crawling on the ground, grasping onto his pant leg.

“Please… you have to spare me!” There were bags under the man’s eyes and an unruly beard, “I-I know I did wrong! I knew that every second of every theft! B-but my wife’s sick, how else am I supposed to raise three kids? Cram school is so expensive nowadays…” Tears prickled the man’s eyes.

“Don’t think you can lie your way out of here just because someone else came in!” The smoke was starting to fade and Yusuke could see the two better now: both were blonde, though the guy’s hair looked obviously bleached to death, and they had a skull and cat mask respectively to hide their faces. The delinquent boy looked ready to beat the man’s face in.

“No, no, it’s true, I swear!” The man rummaged through his pockets with his free hand to pull out a picture and there it was, a picture of him, his wife, and three girls of varying ages, “Mitsuha, Mahiru, and Makoto. They’re growing girls, I have to do what I can, even if I must sin for it, please…”

_ He’s still rotting with desire, Yusuke, it reeks. _

“But, I…” Yusuke whispered, but the man noticed anyway and looked up to him with pleading eyes.

_ Had you not been starving, I might have given you the leniency of debating the ethics of this, but every rotten man has his reasons. Does that excuse him? Rarely. _

_ This is wrong _ , Yusuke thought to himself. His hand ached. Yusuke looked down only to realize that his hand was moving down, straight towards the man, who was still muttering pleas. There was the thump thump thump of the desires, lurking within the man’s heart, it called to Yusuke. 

“Hey, maybe we should give the guy a break, it seems like he was just dragged into this…” Yusuke could hear someone mutter, but it was all but inaudible with this pulsing sound in his ears, the dragging sensation like claws digging down on his arm, tugging him towards the source of the beating.

The heartbeat, the disgusting squelching noises of the desired pulsing through the man’s chest, corrupting everything inside, all of it flooded to his ears. He can smell the rot too, the reek that can only become so vile from a dead body left in the waters, allowing fungi and insects free reign over the spoiled guts-

“Hey, wait-! What did you just do!?” The lady’s voice came in too late. Yusuke was already one full bite in. The man had passed out, tears in his eyes. The clawing hunger in his gut made him eat the rest quickly.

“What the eff, man? The guy just wanted to help his kids!” Who was that? Ah yes, the delinquent boy.

“I…” Yusuke looked down at the hand, the hand that forced him to feed. Was this the work of Goemon? This… He didn’t want this. Something felt so innately  _ wrong _ about this, yet his stomach churned, demanding more. This isn’t right. This isn’t right  _ this isn’t right this isn’t- _

A burst of flame snapped his attention back to the two in front of them, particularly the lady in the cat mask, whose entire arm seemed to be on fire. Her glare didn’t seem to far off from becoming flame itself either, “You… Are you the one that’s been hunting contractees like us?”


End file.
